A Friend in Need
by tutncleo
Summary: After barely surviving two attempts on her life, a wounded FBI agent seeks help from Team Gibbs to take down a kidnapping syndicate. Pairing: Gibbs/DiNozzo, same world as my fic Discovered Undercover
1. Chapter 1

"**A Friend in Need"**

**Chapter One  
**  
**_Spoilers for Identity Crisis, Recoil and Tribes - This story would not exist without a ton of help from Marianne, who originally thought up this story and is continuing to offer the most amazing ideas and suggestions - not to mention her considerable skills as a beta extraordinaire!_**

For the first time in well over a week, Ziva David was enjoying a deep, restful sleep. It had taken her far longer than she found acceptable to recover from her undercover assignment to catch the serial killer targeting military wives. The struggle at the end of the mission shouldn't have been so difficult. She was a trained assassin, well versed in a multitude of moves designed to incapacitate her opponents. Yet somehow, in that instance, she had been reduced to crawling away from her target, desperate to get to his gun, since she was, for the first time in a very long time, completely unarmed. To have carried a weapon would have blown her cover as the promiscuous wife of a Marine currently deployed overseas. She had been the bait, and as she had recently so blithely informed Special Agent Courtney Kreiger, bait frequently gets eaten. She had triumphed in the end, her opponent falling dead upon her supine body, and the image of his emotionless face, and blank eyes would not let her rest in peace. Ziva had experienced night terrors after previous assignments, but never for this long. She couldn't recall another time when she had been as badly shaken by a near death experience. She was prepared to die for her country, to die in battle, but somehow, this time, it had been different.

The situation with Michael Locke had complicated issues further. She didn't understand how she'd let things get so out of control. It was one thing to seduce a suspected killer, in the hopes of entrapping him, but to sleep with a witness because you were feeling alone and vulnerable, a witness who became a suspect in a copycat killing, no less, was unforgiveable. She had seen the look in Tony's eyes, when he had correctly guessed what had occurred between her and Michael, his expression radiating worry and disapproval. She was well aware that Tony was concerned about her, and ever since that moment, she could feel him watching her at work, as if waiting for an outward sign of weakness. She had been furious when she realized he was shadowing her, intent on ensuring her safety. She didn't require his assistance. It was not necessary. Yet as much as she publicly and vocally decried his actions, it was reassuring to know that her partner cared enough to try to protect her. He could not, however, protect her from her own thoughts and memories, and certainly not from her nightmares.

The confrontation with Gibbs down in Autopsy had actually done more to get her back on an even keel than anything. His statements may have seemed harsh to anyone not familiar with the former Marine's penchant for brutal honesty, but he had gotten through to her. He told her point blank that if she couldn't trust her instincts, then she was useless as an agent, and was on her way to getting herself, or her teammates, killed. That had been the turning point for her. She could finally start breathing again. It had still taken several days, but finally, finally, she could go to sleep with no nightmares haunting her. This was going to be her first night of real sleep, and she intended to enjoy every minute of it. When she had returned home from work, she had taken a long, relaxing bath, then a short shower to wash her hair and after completing her normal nightly routine, she had gratefully crawled into bed to find the rest she desperately needed.

Ziva had been asleep for all of six hours, when the ringing of her cell phone began slowly impinging on her subconscious, pushing her toward wakefulness. Pulling the pillow over her head to block the sound, she fought it, trying to ignore the conditioned response to immediately answer the phone. Even asleep she knew her team was not on call, so it couldn't be Gibbs or Tony calling her to a scene. Still, the habit to respond was ingrained by years of working for Mossad, and more recently, her adherence to Gibbs' Rule Number 3: Never be unreachable. Her tired mind tried to pull her back down into a deep sleep, but her conscience and her dedication won the battle, and pulling the pillow off and tossing it irritably to the side, she fought her way back to consciousness.

Her hand landed on the cell phone which she had placed on her night table out of habit. Her voice was roughened by sleep, but she spoke clearly as she answered, "David," not even bothering to look at the display to see who had the audacity to ruin her well deserved rest.

The voice coming through her phone was speaking softly, but the fear and desperation came through clearly. "Ziva, its Courtney. I'm in trouble, and I really need your help. Can you come and get me, please?"

Ziva snapped the rest of way awake in an instant and sat up, reaching over to turn on the lamp on the night table. "Location?" she demanded, as she was already sliding out of bed.

"Braddock Mall, north side, at the Food Court," came the hurried response.

"I will be there in 30. Watch for me. Are you injured?" Ziva asked, having heard just the slightest tinge to Courtney's voice, suggesting the young woman was in pain.

"Just a little. I'll be fine. Just hurry, okay?" Courtney pleaded.

Ziva was already out of bed, and grabbing clothes from her drawers when she answered, "I will be there as soon as possible. Stay there," Ziva said as she pulled on a pair of black cargo pants.

"Thanks," Courtney breathed, and then disconnected.

Ziva tossed her phone onto the bed, so she could pull a sweater over her head, then reaching into her top dresser drawer, she began to arm herself. One leg of her pants was pushed up, so that she could strap on a knife and the ankle holster that housed her tiny automatic. A belt was threaded through the loops of her pants, and another knife case was secured to it. A gun holster was strapped to the opposite side of the belt and she slid her Sig into its leather holder, clipping extra cartridges next to it. Then, satisfied with her armament, she reached over and snagged the phone, which she tucked into a pocket. After hurriedly pulling on socks and shoes, she grabbed a light jacket and car keys and headed for the door.

Braddock Mall was usually a twenty five minute drive for Ziva, but worry compelled her to hurry. As she whipped around the slower moving cars, honking her horn when necessary, she thought about the young FBI agent. Courtney had managed to worm her way into Ziva's life so slowly that Ziva hadn't even been aware it was happening. It had started with a few lessons in hand-to-hand, and then one night, drinks afterwards. Courtney had shared some of her frustrations with being the most junior member of her team, and Ziva had offered awkward sympathy and advice. From there they had progressed to a weekly dinner, and before she knew it, Ziva was viewing Courtney as a surrogate little sister, something she wouldn't have thought herself capable of, one year ago. As she sped on, she realized she had not heard from Courtney this week, which was unusual, but Ziva had been so wrapped up in what was happening in her world, that she had not noticed. Now, Courtney was injured and in need of her help. That thought spurred her on, as she pressed the accelerator even further to the floorboard, her little Mini jerking as its engine was pushed to its limits.

Seventeen minutes later, Ziva pulled up in front of the mall, parking her car illegally by the entrance that led to the food court. Leaping out, she saw Courtney huddled on a bench beside the entrance. "What are you doing out here?" she demanded, as she hurried over to her young friend.

"The mall was getting ready to close, and the workers in the court were beginning to give me dirty looks," Courtney explained, as relief washed over her now that Ziva had arrived.

"Let us get into the car, and then you can tell me what this is all about," Ziva suggested, as she reached out and gave a little pull on Courtney's left elbow. Courtney hissed in pain when Ziva touched her. "Where are you injured?" Ziva demanded, as she let go of Courtney's arm.

"My shoulder," Courtney replied weakly. "It's just a graze, though," she assured her friend.

"A bullet graze?" Ziva asked, wondering what in the hell had happened.

"Uh huh," Courtney managed to answer, as she rode out the wave of pain that had just threatened to overwhelm her.

"We need to get you help. I am calling 911," Ziva said, as she pulled out her cell phone.

"No!" Courtney cried, before Ziva could dial anything. "No paramedics or cops. This can't go out over the radio," she said vehemently.

"Courtney, you are wounded," Ziva said, trying to be reasonable. "You need medical attention."

"I'll be fine. It just needs to be cleaned and dressed. Please Ziva, you don't understand," Courtney pleaded.

"Then make me understand," Ziva demanded, confused by the panic in Courtney's voice.

"Let's go to your car, and then I'll tell you everything," Courtney promised, as she looked around, making sure no one was too interested in them. She didn't want to risk anything happening to Ziva, and the events of the day had left her paranoid and jumpy.

It took a little effort, but Ziva finally succeeded in getting Courtney into her car. Starting the engine, she began to drive, with no real destination in mind, as Courtney began to explain what had happened.

"We've been working a stake out for the past week and a half. There are five of us, and we've been working in twelve hour shifts, with Ed Morgan and Liz Templeton in the night and morning, and Brent Langer and Victor Merit in the afternoon and evening. I work from 11 A.M. to 11 P.M., straddling both shifts, so that all the agents could help train me on surveillance. I got sent out at about one, on a coffee run, and when I got back I found Langer and Merit shot, both just barely alive. After I called 911, I did the best I could to staunch the bleeding until the paramedics got there, and then I called Morgan, who's my team leader." She paused there, trying to get herself back under control. Just remembering what had happened had shaken her to her core again, and she could feel tears threatening to spill out. She blinked hard several times, not wanting to appear weak in front of Ziva.

"Go on," Ziva instructed. "What did Morgan do?"

"He called Fornell, who has been supervising the entire operation, and Fornell ordered Morgan and Templeton to process the scene, and for me to stay there and hold off the local LEO's from doing anything until they got there. He told the paramedics to take Brent and Vic to Bethesda, saying he'd meet the ambulance there. You can imagine how well that went over with the Metro Police. Morgan and Templeton arrived with Asst. Director Glenn at about the same time a Deputy Commissioner from the DC Police got there." Courtney stopped again, as she remembered the fight that had ensued between the two men. There had been a great deal of posturing and vying for supremacy, but finally, federal jurisdiction trumped local, and the local LEOs were charged with simply guarding the site until the FBI techs could complete their forensic work. She skipped the details and simply said, "Morgan and Templeton were left to supervise the FBI technicians as they processed the scene."

"What did Glenn say to you?" Ziva wanted to know.

"After he heard what had happened, he said we needed to go to Bethesda and brief Agent Fornell. He seemed really bothered that someone was brazen enough to attack, and try to kill, two FBI agents." She once again became quiet, contenting herself with staring out the window, while she chewed on her bottom lip.

"So, what did Fornell do when you got there?" Ziva prompted. Courtney seemed to be having trouble focusing, she noticed, and she became even more concerned.

"That's the problem," Courtney began. "We never got there. We'd only gone a couple of blocks, when a black Hummer pulled out in front of us, cutting off the way. The driver had to slam on his brakes, and before I knew it, the back of the Hummer had opened, and people were shooting at the car. Director Glenn pushed me down and covered me with his own body, but the shots kept coming until I could hear sirens approaching. By the time I could sit up, the Hummer was racing away, the driver was dead and Glenn was seriously wounded." She lapsed into silence again, although by now she was shivering slightly, as she remembered pushing Glenn's inert body off of her, and the blood that seemed to cover her head to toe.

"Courtney. Courtney, can you hear me?" Ziva was saying, when Courtney finally came back to the present.

"Yeah, I hear you. I'm sorry Ziva," she said.

"You have no reason to be sorry," Ziva assured her. "Tell me what happened next," she ordered, wanting to keep Courtney on task and stop her from sinking back into silence.

"The cops got there, and called for an ambulance and back up. One of the responding officers recognized us, and called in to his Deputy Commissioner. When he arrived on scene, he demanded that I cooperate with the DC police, since this was the second shooting I'd been found at in the same day. Of course I refused, and told him it was a federal crime and had to be handled accordingly, especially since an Assistant Director of the FBI was wounded, and his driver killed. I called Fornell to tell him what had happened, and he ordered me to hold fast and guard the scene until another set of forensics people could get there to process the scene. The local LEO were furious, and tried to badger me into cooperating, but I refused. Finally, another Assistant Director, Christopher Webb, arrived with more FBI agents, and took me into protective custody. A forensics team was left there to process the car and the body."

Courtney had stopped talking yet again, and Ziva could hear her teeth clattering together. Looking around, she saw a small park to her left, and pulling a fast u-turn, she headed for its parking lot. Once she got the car stopped, she pulled off her seat belt, and turned to Courtney. "Let me look at your shoulder, Courtney," she said gently to the woman beside her. Courtney didn't bother answering, but she did turn to face Ziva, which served to reassure the NCIS agent a little. When she pulled back the blue sweater Courtney was wearing, she saw that Courtney had improvised a makeshift bandage of sorts out of toilet paper and paper towels, from the bathroom at the mall most likely, which were being held together with scotch tape. Ziva was relieved to see that although some blood had seeped through the dressing, there didn't appear to be a great deal of fresh blood. 'How had this happened?' Ziva wondered. Surely if Courtney had been hit in the car, the FBI would have gotten her proper treatment when they took her into custody. Why was Courtney on the run? And why hadn't she called someone from her own agency. "Courtney, I need you to tell me the rest of the story," Ziva said softly. "What happened after you left with Director Webb?"

Courtney stared over at Ziva. "I just wanted something warm to drink and to take a shower and wash off the blood," she said, causing Ziva to look at her quizzically, as she tried to follow Courtney's train of thought. "At the Hoover building," she clarified. "That's where they took me so I could tell them the whole story. Finally, they let me get cleaned up and into some fresh clothes, then they transferred me to a safe house. I managed to drink some vegetable soup and green tea, and then lay down for a nap. I had only been asleep a few hours when loud noises woke me up and I realized the safe house was under attack. I grabbed my back-up gun, which, I thankfully still had on me, since my regular issue SIG had been confiscated by the forensics people, and started toward the door to help the other agents. That's when I got hit by a stray bullet. Then suddenly it got deadly quiet, and I realized the attackers were searching for me. I managed to climb out a window in the bedroom and got away, but since I was now in a residential neighborhood, in the suburbs of Virginia, I didn't really know what to do."

She took a deep breath, before she continued, her lip quivering dangerously. "God, every time I called for help today, something worse happened than what had already happened. I knew that the agents assigned to guard me were most probably dead, and I only had a single weapon and my purse with me. I immediately turned off my cell phone and removed the battery, so I couldn't be tracked with the GPS chip inside it, and just started walking. Finally I came to the mall. Fortunately I was wearing a dark jacket, so the blood didn't show too much. I went straight to the bathroom and used some toilet paper and paper towels to cover up the wound, and fortunately I had a small office supply kit in my purse so I was able to secure them in place with some scotch tape. Then, I stopped at the first store I came to and bought this sweater, so I could toss the bloody jacket. I used the last of my cash to purchase a pre-paid cell phone, but I didn't know who to call. I didn't want to contact anyone at the FBI, since it's going to be more than a little hard to explain how everywhere I go, people keep ending up dead. I ruled out calling the local LEOs, because I didn't know how to get their help without revealing anything about the on-going investigation, or worse yet, endangering them, since the 'bad guys' seem to have eyes and ears everywhere I turn, and that's when I thought of you. I knew you'd know what to do," she stuttered.

Ziva looked at Courtney, a little humbled by the sheer faith the younger woman seemed to have in her. "I do not know what to do," she admitted. "But I know who will." Refastening her seatbelt and turning on the car, Ziva said to Courtney. "We are going to see Gibbs. If anyone can figure out what it going on, it is Gibbs," she stated with complete confidence. She backed the car out of the parking spot and headed towards Gibbs' house.


	2. Chapter 2

"**Chapter Two"**

When Ziva finally arrived at Gibbs' house, she was surprised to see Tony's car sitting in the driveway, by itself. Looking at the darkened windows, she became worried that Gibbs might not be home. Had he and Tony gone somewhere together, in Gibbs' car? 'Why did I not call ahead?' she berated herself, careful not to say anything aloud, not wanting to wake Courtney, who had fallen into a fitful sleep on the drive over, if there turned out to be no reason. Scanning the house carefully, she breathed a huge sigh of relief when she saw a light coming from the basement window. Gibbs was home; he was just working on his boat. Reaching over, she gently touched Courtney. "Wake up," she said, as gently as she could. "We are there."

Courtney's eyes flew open and she looked around, disoriented. When she inadvertently jarred her shoulder, she gave a little gasp, as the pain surprised her, but then the earlier events of the day came rushing back. "We're there?" she asked, still trying to clear out all the cobwebs in her head.

"At Gibbs'," Ziva patiently reminded her. "It looks as if he is in the basement. Do you need help getting out?" she asked.

"No, I'll be fine," Courtney assured her, although she was glad Ziva was there. The NCIS team leader had always scared Courtney a little, even though Ziva had assured her his bark was worse than his bite. Courtney had to smile a little, actually, when she thought about that, because that hadn't been what Ziva had said. Ziva had told Courtney that Gibbs' meow was worse than his bite, and it had taken her a few minutes to get over the giggling fit that an image of a grumpy Gibbs meowing had caused, before she could correct Ziva's English.

"Why are you smiling?" Ziva asked, when she got a better look at her as the overhead light in the car lit Courtney's face when she opened the door.

"Meow," Courtney answered, and let a giggle escape.

Ziva couldn't help laughing also, as the memory of the past conversation returned. Plus, this was the first time all night Courtney had seemed like herself, so Ziva's laughter was also born from relief. If Courtney could laugh, then surely she couldn't be too badly hurt.

When they got to the door, Ziva turned the handle and opened the door.

"Aren't you going to knock?" Courtney asked, wide eyed at the notion of walking in on Gibbs unannounced.

"There is no reason to knock. Gibbs never locks his door. I will call to him before we go downstairs, so he is not surprised," Ziva told her, as she wove her way through the darkened living room, heading towards the kitchen, and the stairs to the basement. Courtney followed close on her heels.

As she entered the kitchen, Ziva could hear muffled voices and a laugh that could only belong to Tony coming from the basement. When she reached the open door that led down to where she knew they must be, Ziva called out, "Gibbs, it is Ziva. I am here with Courtney Kreiger, and we need to speak with you." She did not want to startle the two men and end up with Courtney coming face to face with two drawn guns. That said, she began to descend. When she got far enough down the stairs that she could see into the basement, she was more than a little surprised by what she found. Tony sat on the workbench, dressed only in an old pair of sweatpants, his chest as bare as his feet, holding a beer bottle and looking at Ziva, equally as surprised to see her. Gibbs wore a white t-shirt and a pair of faded jeans that were zipped but not buttoned, and he too was barefooted, as he leaned against the side of his boat frame, a piece of pizza from the box sitting next to Tony held firmly in his hand. A thousand scenarios ran through her head to explain why Tony was in Gibbs' basement, virtually naked, but she kept returning, uncomfortably, to just one. Before she could dwell on that for too long, however, Tony interrupted her thoughts.

"You know, in America it's customary to call before visiting, Ziva," Tony said, after he recovered from the initial shock of seeing her.

"I am aware of that, Tony," she snapped. "But something has happened. Courtney has been wounded and is in trouble, and needs our help. She can not go to the FBI, as she does not know who to trust," she told the two men.

Gibbs stepped over to where Tony sat, and set the piece of pizza he was holding back in the box, then turned to Courtney and ordered "Report, Special Agent Kreiger!"

Complying, Courtney took a deep breath and told Gibbs everything she had already shared with Ziva. When she mentioned the names of the agents, Gibbs and Tony exchanged a shocked look, but neither interrupted her. Then she told them about Assistant Director Glenn being shot, and his driver being killed, about the safe house being breached, and that all the other agents were probably dead, at which point, she began to shake violently, as recounting the events again caused everything to finally catch up to her. Before Gibbs could question her further, she slid to the floor, unconscious.

Gasping, Ziva rushed over to her. "She needs medical attention, Gibbs. She was shot in the shoulder as she escaped from the safe house, and although it does not appear to be very serious, it has not yet been treated," Ziva said, as she crouched down beside the stricken young agent. "She was afraid to allow me call for paramedics, since she feels sure the FBI has been compromised, and does not know who to trust. That is why I brought her here."

Gibbs was already reaching for his cell phone, which sat on the workbench. "I'm calling Ducky now Ziva. But we need to know more about this, before we can go any further. At the very least we need to know all the particulars of the case they were working," he told her, as he hit speed dial for the elderly M.E.'s number.

In the meantime, Tony had grabbed a blanket and a pillow from behind one of the doors on the cabinet under the workbench, and was gently easing Courtney's head down onto the pillow. As he covered her up, Ziva realized he'd known just where to find the items. Clearly Tony was no stranger to Gibbs' basement. Ziva's eyes scanned Tony's body once again, her eyes stopping when they met Tony's. Raising an eyebrow in silent challenge, Tony held her eyes, both aware of what Ziva had already worked out for herself. Ziva looked at him, as everything seemed to crystallize before her very eyes. Tony's unrelenting need to please Gibbs, Gibbs' almost hyperawareness of everything Tony did, even the origin of the heads slaps, suddenly made complete sense, and she found herself wondering how she had failed to realize this before now. They could both hear Gibbs talking to Ducky on the phone, but still they remained frozen, staring at each other from either side of Courtney's prone body, neither one willing to be the first to look away. Finally, Tony broke the silence by asking, "You going to be okay?"

Ziva knew exactly what he was referring to, and she gave a little shrug as she said, "Why would I not be? It is no skin off my chin."

Tony visibly relaxed as he smiled ever so slightly and said, "Nose - no skin off your nose, Ziva."

Ziva was saved from having to retort when Gibbs said, "Ducky's on his way." He knelt beside Courtney to examine the wound. Carefully pulling the makeshift bandage off, he peered closely at where the bullet had caught her. It was ugly, but soft scabs were forming, and it was clear to all three of them that the bullet wasn't in there. "Looks like she just got winged," Gibbs said. "I think the shock and exhaustion just caught up with her. Ducky'll be able to say for sure. Stay with Kreiger, Ziva, while Tony and I go get ready, in case we need to leave," he directed, as he stood back up.

Ziva watched them climb the stairs, Gibbs in the lead and Tony following closely behind. Funny, that was how she always thought of them, she realized. 'How long has this been going on?' she wondered, as she sat beside Courtney, absentmindedly patting her arm. 'Days, weeks, months, years? Had they been together when Gibbs had retreated to Mexico? If so, Tony's efforts to hold the team together were even more impressive. What about when Tony had been undercover with Jeanne? Had Gibbs actually known about it, or had Tony kept it a secret? Did anyone else at work know about them – Jenny, Ducky, Abby, McGee? Am I the first, or the last?' she wondered. From where she sat on the floor of Gibbs' basement, she could hear their muted voices, distance muffling the words, as they quietly spoke to each other.

"Are you going to call Fornell, and check on Brent?" Tony asked as they headed up the stairs that led to the bedroom, knowing that Gibbs was extremely fond of the FBI agent who had once worked for him.

"I don't think I can, not until we know more about what's going on. If Kreiger's right, the FBI is leaking like a sieve, and there's no way to know who to trust," Gibbs said, the frustration and anger he was feeling clearly evident in his voice. "Did you hear her say that Liz Templeton was on the team? I hope she's gotten better since she was on my team," he muttered, remembering the last case they had worked together, seven years ago, the case in which he'd met Tony.

As they got to Gibbs' bedroom, Tony, too, was thinking back on that case so long ago, the case that brought Gibbs to Baltimore, where Tony was working as a Homicide detective. It had turned ugly, and Tony had been hurt, in more ways than one, but in the end, Gibbs had recruited him for NCIS, and for himself. They'd been together ever since, the relationship going through an inevitable series of ups and downs, given the volatile temperament of both men, but despite the turmoil, they always ended up back with each other. Tony started when he felt warm, calloused hands grip his shoulders and roughly pull him close. Automatically, he parted his lips, before Gibbs' mouth even closed over his. It was a wet, hard kiss, and Tony let himself melt into it, contenting himself by wrapping his arms around the older man, knowing Gibbs was seeking balance, not release. That would come later, when they were alone. When Gibbs released his mouth, Tony murmured, "I've always been kind of grateful to Templeton. If she hadn't fucked up so badly, maybe you wouldn't have wanted me on your team."

"Oh, I'd have wanted you, Tony. Don't ever doubt that," Gibbs said quietly.

"Yeah, well, I think Ziva's got that all figured out now, too," Tony said.

"That going to be a problem for you?" Gibbs asked Tony softly.

"Not for me, Boss. But I kinda thought you might be bothered by it," Tony said, surprised that Gibbs didn't seem to be the least bit worried about it.

"Always figured she knew; that Mossad's background profiles would have picked it up. Guess we've been sneakier than I thought," he said with a slight shrug.

"Why didn't you ever say anything?" Tony demanded in surprise.

"There wasn't anything to say," Gibbs said. "I figured if she didn't say anything, it didn't bother her, so it was a non-issue. Guess now we're going to have to wait and see if I was right."

Tony extricated himself from Gibbs' embrace so that he could get a better look at his face. Gibbs' expression seemed to support his words. "Aren't you worried she'll say something to someone? Tell Jenny?"

Gibbs snorted over Tony's last statement. "I'm sure Jenny knows, Tony. It isn't something that would likely slip past her. I've always suspected that was part of what was behind the whole Jeanne assignment."

Tony just looked at him. "So who else do you think knows? McGee, Cynthia, Palmer? Why haven't you ever mentioned any of this to me?"

"Because it isn't anyone else's business, Tony. It doesn't effect how we do the job, and it doesn't effect how we conduct our private life. This is between me and you, no one else gets a say," Gibbs said forcefully. "Does this feel any different, now that you know Ziva knows?" Gibbs asked, as he reached over and grabbed Tony, pulling him in for another hard kiss, which he dragged out as long as he could, until the need for air effectively ended the kiss for him. When he was done, he pushed away and looked at Tony. "Well?" he demanded, although he began to relax a bit, when Tony met his glare with a saucy smirk.

"I don't know. Why don't you do that again, and I'll get back to you with an answer?" Tony suggested.

"Oh, I'd like to, but it's gonna have to wait. Get dressed. Ducky will be here shortly, and maybe we can get to the bottom of this mess. Something tells me there's a lot more going on here than meets the eye, and Kreiger has information we're gonna need," Gibbs asserted, forcing himself to turn away from Tony, and go in search of clothing.

Tony crossed to the side of the bed and picked up the jeans, t-shirt and undergarments he'd carelessly tossed there earlier in the night, and began to put them on. With each new article, his mind focused more clearly on the problem at hand. "It takes a lot of balls to attack an Assistant Director, Boss. Whoever these people are, they're ruthless."

Gibbs had been having similar thoughts. "Yeah, and desperate," he added. "The attack on Glenn's car was out in the open, where people could see them, so they must have thought Kreiger had either seen something, or knew something, that warranted that kind of risk. I hope she knows what it is. She's still plenty green," he observed, as he continued to dress.

When they were both dressed and armed, they headed back to the basement, where they found Ziva looking worried, as she sat on the ground beside Courtney. "Should she not be waking up?" Ziva asked.

"She's in shock, Ziva," Tony said. "Let her be until Ducky gets here. There isn't anything we can do for her right now, and the sleep will do her good. I've got a feeling the night is just beginning, and Courtney's going to need all the strength she can find."

"When will Ducky be here?" Ziva asked.

"Soon," Gibbs answered. "Did Kreiger tell you anything about the case they were working, Ziva?" he asked.

"No, and she was so frightened and seemed to be in so much pain that I did not want to push her until I had to," Ziva responded, although she, too, wished she knew more about what was going on.

"Well, it'll just have to wait," Gibbs said, then reached for his gun when he heard voices coming from upstairs. He relaxed again, when he recognized one of them.

"Right this way, my dear," he heard the unmistakable voice of his old friend and colleague say to someone. "Watch your footing as you go down. The stairs are rather narrow." Gibbs could see two sets of feet appear, one set clad in sensible oxblood colored wingtips, and the other, much smaller set, in navy blue heels. He watched as legs were also revealed, two in grey flannel pants, the others encased in nylons. Finally, they got far enough down the stairs for Gibbs to see who Ducky's companion was – Dr. Jordan Hampton, another medical examiner they had met on an earlier case, the same one where they met Special Agent Kreiger.

"Jethro," Ducky said, as he hurried over to Courtney, his eyes having already swept the basement and noted the fallen woman on the floor. "I got here as soon as I could. You remember Dr. Hampton, I'm sure," his concern for the agent making his introduction somewhat abbreviated, and less formal than was his wont. "Jordan is spending the weekend with me, and I didn't think I dared leave her alone with Mother. Plus, I wasn't certain what I would be walking into, and determined another set of skilled hands might be needed."

When Ducky paused to lift the dressing off of Courtney's shoulder, Gibbs couldn't help but think that this was certainly the night for revelations, as he looked over at the shapely woman who had accompanied Ducky into basement, and nodded a hello.

"What's happened here, and why haven't you called for paramedics? When we spoke over the phone you told me someone was ill, and required discreet care. This is a gunshot wound," Ducky announced, as he studied Courtney's shoulder.

"It's complicated," Gibbs said, in lieu of a more detailed answer.

"It often is with you," Ducky rejoined. "Isn't this young woman with the FBI?" he asked, as he looked more closely at Courtney's face.

"Yes," Ziva answered, from her place next to Ducky.

"I thought I recognized her," Ducky nodded. "Why aren't her own people caring for her?" he wanted to know, as he opened the medical bag he'd carried in with him, and began to pull out supplies.

"There've been three ambushes on FBI personnel today, Ducky. Agent Kreiger was at each one of them. We have reason to believe someone is after her, and that there's a leak in the Bureau. I need her conscious, so I can get more information," Gibbs told him.

"Well, that will have to wait until after I've cleaned and dressed this wound. It isn't very deep; the bullet did little more than graze her. But that is enough to be quite painful, and without proper cleaning and antibiotic creams, the wound could become infected. Plus, I can tell from her heart rate and the feel of her skin that she's in shock. Ziva, dear, could you move aside and allow Dr. Hampton to take your place? I could use the help, and she's a bit more qualified than you," he said kindly, as he watched Ziva reluctantly remove her hand from the arm she'd been touching.

"Of course, Ducky," Ziva said, as she fluidly rose to her feet, to make room for the other woman.

All three NCIS agents stood and watched as Ducky and his lady friend became engrossed in caring for Courtney. At one point Tony was dispatched to fetch a wash cloth, soap and a bowl of warm water, but other than that, they were largely ignored by the pair of doctors. Courtney woke up during all this, and Ducky had soothed her, making introductions and assuring her that she was safe and would soon be well. Too tired to argue, Courtney had settled down and allowed herself to be treated after glancing around to be sure Ziva was still present. Finally, satisfied with his results, Ducky stood up. "She needs to be in a bed and sleeping," he informed Gibbs.

"Soon Ducky," Gibbs promised. "But first we need to know everything she can tell us about the operation the FBI was running. Brent Langer was shot and seriously wounded in all this, and I can't just let it go, without knowing what's going on. If the FBI's been compromised for some reason, I need to know this isn't something that could effect NCIS, and it doesn't sound like I can just call Fornell and ask. So she's got to hang together long enough for me to talk to her," Gibbs said.

"It's okay, Dr. Mallard," Courtney called weakly from the floor. "Agent Gibbs is right. Something bad is happening, and it's got to be tied to the case we were working on. I need to tell him about it."

"Very well, but try to keep it short," Ducky said, pinning Gibbs with his eyes.

"It all started about two months ago, we think," Courtney began. "For the past week we've been investigating the apparent disappearance of several highly placed business executives, all of whom work for one of the Fortune 100 companies. The men and women vanish, usually for a period of about one to two weeks, and then suddenly re-appear, with no explanation provided to their co-workers, or law enforcement. They were never reported missing by their families, and when they re-appear, they are in good health, with no obvious injuries or ill-effects of their time away.

We only became aware of their disappearances because the newly hired personal assistant of the latest woman to vanish was previously employed by the FBI. When her boss, a Melissa Carter, failed to show up for work one morning, and she couldn't locate her via cell or home phone, she took it upon herself to notify the woman's superior, who assured her there was no problem, her boss was simply attending a highly confidential meeting, and would be unavailable for an indeterminate period of time. The assistant was ordered to reschedule all of her boss' appointments, and to discuss her absence with no one. If asked, she was to say her boss was on vacation at an exclusive spa, and would return soon.

The personal assistant, a woman named Sarah Bruce, was used to maintaining confidentiality, but none of this was adding up for her, and so she ran a check on her boss' credit cards, and cell phone usage. There was nothing after the day she left work and disappeared. As time went by and she didn't hear from her boss, she becomes more and more concerned. Then one day, she was in the break room and accidently overheard the company CEO and CFO in the next room, having an argument about a ransom demand, and how it was to be handled. That made her contact a friend from her FBI days, Julia Barrett. Julia is the personal assistant to Assistant Director Luke Glenn. Julia went to Director Glenn and told him what her friend overheard, and he handed the initial investigation over to Agent Fornell, since he's the Supervisory Field Agent for all the teams in the D.C. area. Fornell in turn assigned it to his top Team Leader, Ed Morgan, and that's how I got involved, since I'm Morgan's rookie.

We had to be covert, since no one reported the crime, nor had they asked for assistance in re-acquiring their executive. We put in place wire-taps, cameras, etc. and set up a monitoring post in an adjacent building. That's when our computer expert, Victor Merit, picked up some scary information. Turns out, other CEOs have suffered the same loss, but they got their executives back after a payment of $5 million dollars was wired to an off-short account. That's when we slowly began to realize that the syndicate behind these crimes is very well organized, very careful, and totally ruthless.

As far as we can tell, only one executive wasn't returned, and he was found beaten to death. It turns out his CEO, who happened to be an Israeli national, refused to negotiate or pay the kidnappers. Non-negotiation with terrorists, or in this case, criminals, was so ingrained in his psyche that he couldn't accede to the demands. It led to the death of his employee, and we suspect he is out for vengeance, although we don't know how much trouble he's going to be yet.

The LEOs investigating the murder had no idea the man had been kidnapped, and were treating the crime as a random robbery turned homicide. Since they didn't have all the facts, they were at a distinct disadvantage, and the case went cold. No one made the connection between the man's death and the kidnapping syndicate until we picked up a conversation over our wiretap between the two CEOs.

So, that's where we were. The woman has been missing for a week and a half, and we've been running the surveillance for five days now. I don't have any idea how someone knew what we were up to. We've been very careful to cover our tracks, and no one in the area seemed at all suspicious." Courtney had to stop at that point. Her voice had been getting weaker and weaker as she talked, and it was clear that only a strong sense of duty, and an iron will, had enabled her to get that much out.

"Why hasn't her family reported her missing?" Tony asked.

"She doesn't have any children," Courtney informed him, "and her husband is a Marine Corps officer, who's deployed overseas right now. Mrs. Carter's boss ordered the assistant, Sarah Bruce, to tell the husband the same story about the confidential meeting when he called, so as far as he's concerned, there isn't anything wrong."

"God damn it!" Gibbs swore when he heard that, causing Courtney to flinch. A soldier had been deliberately lied to, and the FBI hadn't notified NCIS about a kidnapping case with a direct tie to the Marine Corps. Well, he knew now, and Mrs. Carter's husband being an officer in the Corps made this as much NCIS's jurisdiction as the FBI's. Fornell had some explaining to do, and Gibbs intended to force him to do it. But first, they had to get Kreiger somewhere safe. She was their only link to the FBI's investigation, and the day's earlier events, and it was quite clear that the FBI wasn't going to be able to adequately protect her. He needed more information, like the names of the other kidnapping victims, but he also realized she was on her last nerve. Courtney wasn't going be any good for anyone if he pushed her to the breaking point right now. They could get more details from her once she was in a secure location, and had gotten a little sleep.

"Ducky, can you take Agent Kreiger to your home in Reston so that she can safely get some rest?" he asked his friend. "Ziva will go with her to provide protection, although she shouldn't need it. There isn't any way anyone could guess she's with you."

Ducky, who had been stunned by the story, hurriedly agreed. "Of course, Jethro. I'll make a couple of calls and get someone to keep Mother entertained, and then pack this young lady off to bed. What are you intending to do?"

"DiNozzo and I are going to have a little chat with Director Shepard. Since the missing woman's husband is a Marine, we have as much right to investigate as anyone else. Then, Tobias and I are going to have a little talk," he promised, his voice menacing, and Ducky was glad he wouldn't be on the receiving end of that 'conversation.' "I'm going to need more details from Agent Kreiger later, but it can wait until morning, after she's gotten some rest," Gibbs said.

"That's for the best," Ducky agreed, "I think she cannot take much more tonight."

"Let's move out people," Gibbs said, as he looked around the room.

Courtney was gently helped up by Tony, and tucked into Ducky's car. Arrangements were made for Ziva to follow along behind in her own car, watching closely for anything that looked like a tail. A slightly shell shocked Dr. Hampton got into the car beside Ducky, not really knowing what to make of all that she'd heard, but vowing not to breath a word of it to anyone. Once everyone else had been dispatched, Tony and Gibbs headed for Tony's car, intending to pay Director Shepard a late night visit.


	3. Chapter 3

"**A Friend In Need" - Chapter Three**

Jenny Shepard was in the kitchen, making herself a cup of tea, having given up on trying to go to sleep. Sleep had always had a way of eluding her, even when she was younger, as there always seemed to be so many more interesting things she could be doing with the time. But lately, when her body was literally pleading for the rest that sleep would provide, her brain refused to listen. So, night after night, Jenny found herself roaming the large empty house she'd inherited from her father, playing back everything that had happened in her life, and wondering how she had ended up so alone. She had just settled down at the kitchen table, her hands wrapped around the warm cup, letting the heat from the tea seep into her tired limbs, when she heard a car screech to a stop out front. Glancing up at the wall clock hung over her sink, she saw that it was almost one in the morning. 'Who could possibly be dropping in at this hour, on a Friday night?' she wondered, as she stood and walked out into the hallway that led to the front foyer. Peering out of the window next to the large oak door, she was more than a little surprised to see Gibbs and DiNozzo approaching the house. Not bothering to wait until they had rung the bell, she took a second to steady herself, letting her invisible Madame Director cloak fall in place, then opened the door to greet them.

"This had better be good," she said as they came to an abrupt halt, surprised by the open door.

Recovering almost instantly, Gibbs said, "We need to talk."

"And it couldn't have waited until morning?" Jenny asked, wondering why she was never able to resist digging at Gibbs.

"I wouldn't be here if it could, Jenny," Gibbs answered, a bit of annoyance creeping into his voice.

"Well come in, then," she said, stepping aside to let the two men in. "Tony," she acknowledged the younger man, as he passed.

"Director," he said. There had been an unacknowledged tension between the two of them ever since the whole debacle with La Grenouille, and Jenny was well aware of the fact that Tony no longer completely trusted her, although she couldn't seem to work up much concern about it. 'Tony can always find support from someone else,' she thought snidely. He didn't seem to need, or want, her approval.

"The FBI's been holding out on us," Gibbs told her.

"That's what brings you over here in the middle of the night, Jethro? To tell me that? The FBI is always holding out on us," she snapped.

Gibbs glared at her, but didn't comment on her sarcasm. Instead, he continued speaking as if she hadn't interrupted him. "They've been investigating the disappearance of a Marine officer's wife, which is supposedly linked to a series of kidnappings of high ranking executives in various Fortune 100 companies."

"I hadn't heard a word about this woman going missing," Jenny exclaimed.

"That's just it," Gibbs said. "No one hears about the kidnappings. The companies have been paying off the ransoms, and the people have been released, unharmed, and no one has said a thing. It was just a fluke that the FBI learned about the latest kidnapping of the military wife."

"I heard through the grapevine that they had some kind of mission blow up in their faces today, but no one has any details yet. They've drawn a veil of silence around themselves. Is this investigation tied to that?" Jenny wanted to know.

"Oh yeah, they lost a bunch of agents today, and several more were seriously hurt, including Brent Langer," Gibbs answered in a taut voice.

Jenny winced. She was well aware of how close Gibbs and Langer had once been. He'd been on Gibbs' team for quite some time, and she knew that Gibbs had a great deal of respect for him. She also knew that even if an agent was no longer with Gibbs, a part of Gibbs still felt an ingrained sense of responsibility towards that person. That trait was one of the things that made him a good team leader. It was also one of the things that could make being on his team so suffocating, as Jenny well knew from personal experience. If Langer had been injured, and there was even a tenuous tie to the Marines, Gibbs was never going to let this go. If FBI agents had been killed, and an operation blown, Fornell and their Director were not going to want NCIS involved. No matter how she looked at it, Jenny knew this was a going to be a mess, and she sighed, weariness almost overwhelming her. "Let's go into the study, and you can tell me how you know all this," Jenny suggested, when she realized they were still standing, crowded together, in the foyer.

Tony and Gibbs followed her down the hall and into a large room, filled with books. Ignoring the more casual seating area in the center of the room, Jenny headed for the large antique desk that took up a sizable portion of one of the side walls, wanting the sense of authority the desk always gave her. Sliding into the leather chair behind the desk, she indicated that Tony and Gibbs should take a seat in the upholstered chairs placed in front of the desk. Placing her cup of tea down on the desk top, she looked up at Gibbs, who had remained standing, waiting for him to continue filling her in. Gibbs didn't need any further prompting. He immediately launched into a report on the information he'd learned from Courtney, once again impressing Tony with the flawless accuracy of his recall. When he was done, Jenny asked, "So, Agent Kreiger is with Ducky and Ziva right now?"

"Yeah, didn't know what else to do with her," Gibbs answered.

"The Bureau must be tearing out their hair, trying to find her, Jethro," Jenny reprimanded.

"Well, they didn't do a very good job of protecting her when they had her," he said defensively.

"Even so, she's one of their own," Jenny pointed out. "You're going to have to tell Fornell that you have her. You can't let them waste resources looking for someone who isn't really lost."

"I'm not about to give her back right now," Gibbs glared at her. "If they don't know how information is getting out, they can't guarantee her safety. We can, and besides, at the moment she's my only source of information," he said stubbornly.

"I never said you had to give her back. I just said you needed to let Fornell know she is safe, Jethro. Besides, that should give you a reason to talk to Fornell about the investigation, don't you think?" she asked archly.

"I don't need an excuse to talk to Tobias," Gibbs grunted. "A Marine wife is missing, and from what I can tell, they aren't making much progress in finding her. We're not going to have that problem," he declared forcefully. "This could get ugly - politically," he said to her. "Are you going to back me on this, Jen?" he asked, knowing that one of her main jobs was to be the mediator for NCIS in its interactions with the other intelligence agencies.

"I've always got your back, Jethro. You know that," Jenny said to him, thinking about all the times she'd had to run interference for him since she'd become the Director. Even as she spoke, she had been preparing her arguments for the jurisdictional war she would have with her counterpart at the Bureau, and she couldn't help wondering which of them was really the boss. "I can't guarantee that the SecNav isn't going to force us to let the FBI have the lead on this, though. If they had as many casualties as Agent Kreiger thinks they did, they've got a pretty strong claim."

"But they've got a major leak," Gibbs objected.

Jenny held up her hands in mock surrender. "I know that, and that's going to be my argument. I'm just saying, we may not win this one, especially with a wounded Assistant Director. My advice to you would be to move fast on this, while the Bureau's still trying to figure out what's going on. Who knows, if you play it right, you and Fornell might be able to work something out."

Gibbs didn't answer her, he just snorted. "Let's go, DiNozzo," he said to Tony, who'd sat silently in one of the chairs, listening to the exchange between the Director and Gibbs.

"Where are you going now Jethro?" Jenny asked, as Tony rose to follow Gibbs.

"To find Tobias," Gibbs said, as he turned to leave, his tone implying that the answer should have been obvious.

"Where to?" Tony asked, as they walked out to the car.

"Bethesda," Gibbs answered as he slid into the passenger seat, his cell phone out and in his hand.

"Who're you calling?" Tony asked as he slipped the car into gear and watched Gibbs punch in a number on speed dial.

"McGee. I want him at headquarters by 0700, running a search on Melissa Carter. I want to know everything there is to know about the woman, before we talk to Kreiger again. I also want him to track down the name of the exec who got killed, and run him through the system," Gibbs answered, as he listened to the phone ring.

"Yeah?" Gibbs heard a sleepy voice answer.

"McGee," he barked into the phone.

McGee immediately sat bolt upright in his bed, giving a textbook example of a Pavlovian response. "Boss?" he asked. "Is everyone okay?" he asked, thinking the only reason Gibbs would be calling him in the middle of the night, when they weren't on call, was if something bad had happened to someone on the team.

"Relax McGee, everyone's fine. But the weekend off is cancelled. I need you in at 0700," Gibbs ordered.

"What's going on?" McGee asked, wishing he was more surprised that the long anticipated time off wasn't going to materialize.

"Corporate kidnapping, botched FBI investigation, long story. I'll brief you first thing in the morning," Gibbs grunted, as he disconnected the phone.

"Way to leave him dangling," Tony commented, as Gibbs slid the phone back into his pocket. "Bet you twenty the probie's on the internet right now, looking for some clue as to what's going on."

Gibbs smirked at Tony and said, "No bet."

"So, you think Fornell's gonna still be at the hospital?" Tony asked.

"Probably, at least he will be if his agents are hanging in there," Gibbs said, his face going serious again, as he thought about Langer and his teammates. "He's going to need to try and get their statements, plus he'd be there for the families. He may be a sneaky bastard, but he really cares about his people," Gibbs observed.

"Think you just described yourself, Boss," Tony said, as he was reminded once again of how similar Gibbs and Fornell could be. The main difference was, that when push came to shove, Fornell was a company man, and that was something Gibbs could never be. That didn't mean Gibbs wasn't loyal to NCIS, he was. Gibbs was loyal to everything he committed to, but he wasn't willing to blindly follow protocol that he either disagreed with, or that got in the way of his solving a case. He wasn't afraid to ruffle feathers, and that was something Fornell tried to avoid. 'This ought to be interesting,' he said to himself, as he thought about the impending confrontation.

When they got to the hospital, Gibbs headed directly for the information desk, where he flashed his badge and demanded an update on Brent Langer's condition. The flustered security guard, some baby faced Marine, probably in his first year of service, called up the name on his computer and managed to stammer out that Langer was up on the Intensive Care floor, but that no further information was available. Tony could still hear him calling out information on visiting hours and rules and regulations, as the doors to the elevator closed, and Gibbs pushed the button for the correct floor. Gibbs didn't need instructions on how to find the floor, or edification on the rules; he'd been to Bethesda's Intensive Care Unit far too many times over the years, he thought, as he worked to compose himself. It wouldn't do for him to be too distracted by Langer's condition when he dealt with Tobias, not if he wanted to make sure he got his way. Fornell wasn't above using a perceived weakness to his own advantage, and Gibbs knew he'd be scrambling. Things had gone to hell today for the FBI man, and he'd be in full damage control mode. Gibbs was just going to have to count on Tobias' innate need for justice to work in his favor.

When they reached the third floor, Gibbs headed straight for the visitor's lounge, where, as he suspected, Tobias Fornell sat slumped in a chair, staring blindly at the wall in front of him, his coat thrown carelessly on the chair next to him, tie loosened, and his shirt sleeves rolled up. He looked like he was on his last leg. Two other agents sat dozing in nearby chairs. Having heard Gibbs' and Tony's approach, he looked up, his face strained with worry and fatigue. "Jethro, I expected you earlier. What kept you?" he asked.

"I had a few loose ends I had to attend to first," Gibbs answered, giving nothing away. "How's Langer doing?" he asked then.

"Holding his own. He caught one high on his chest, which thankfully missed his heart. Upon entry it shattered his clavicle, and the shrapnel from the shattered bone perforated his left lung. He must have slammed his head on something on the way down, because they're also treating him for a head injury. He's out of surgery, but hasn't regained consciousness yet. The doctors say it'll be several hours. They expect him to make it, though," Fornell told Gibbs.

"Your other people?" Gibbs asked, breathing more easily now that he knew Brent would pull through.

"Victor Merit, one of our surveillance and computer crimes experts, was in the room with Langer, and he took a bullet to the left shoulder. He's going to be fine - in time, but not everyone was that lucky. We lost five people in all, and Assistant Director Glenn is also in Intensive Care, having been hit in the back twice, and they aren't sure he's going to live. Then, to top it all off, we think the perps took one of our people, because we're missing a rookie, whose blood was found at the safe house that got hit. All in all, this was probably my worst day in all the years I've been with the Bureau," Fornell said, rubbing at his tired eyes. He hadn't bothered to elaborate on the details of the events, figuring that if Gibbs was there, he knew all about what had gone down.

Tony snuck a covert glance at Gibbs when Fornell mentioned the missing agent, wondering how Gibbs was going to play this. Would he immediately tell Fornell that Courtney was with them, or would he save it, for later? Gibbs face didn't give anything away, as he listened to Fornell. Tony hadn't been able to see even the slightest twitch. "You've lost men before, Tobias," Gibbs said, and although you wouldn't describe his voice as gentle, it was infused with understanding.

"Yeah, but always when they knew the risks going into the operation. Never because someone le…." his words abruptly cut off. Gibbs might know what had happened today, but he would have no way of knowing what the investigation was about, or that today's events were probably due to a leak within the Bureau itself.

"I know all about your leak, Tobias," Gibbs said, "and I've been wondering when you were going to tell me you were investigating the disappearance of a Marine officer's wife."

"How in the hell do ….." Fornell stopped and squinted at Gibbs. Then, as realization came crashing down on him, he hissed, "You've got Kreiger, don't you? Jesus Fucking Christ, Gibbs! I had a team of agents combing that neighborhood for hours. Agents who could have been doing something else," he glared at Gibbs. His voice had slowly risen as he'd spoke, and by the end he was loud enough to wake the two sleeping agents, who had leapt to their feet, when they heard their boss raise his voice. Tony had instinctively taken a step towards them, ready to defend Gibbs if it looked like they were going to take action.

Gibbs saw all of this happen out of the corner of his eye, as he unblinkingly returned Fornell's outraged stare. "Let's take a walk," he said to Fornell, as he nodded towards his men. "I could use some coffee."

"Fine," Fornell managed to choke out through clenched teeth.

"Stay here," Gibbs said to Tony, and cut his eyes towards the FBI agents, knowing Tony would correctly guess that he wanted him to keep an eye on the men, insuring that his conversation with Fornell would not be overheard by snooping ears. Tony nodded, indicating that he understood, and watched as Gibbs led the way out of the room.

Gibbs headed immediately towards the Doctors' Lounge, a haven for quiet thinking and good coffee that he'd discovered during the long nights he'd spent at Bethesda while Tony was recuperating from the plague. Doctors were rarely in there, since, like all hospitals, Bethesda was understaffed, and the physicians had practically no down time. This was particularly true late at night, when only one or two residents were left on call per floor. As they walked, Gibbs said, "I only heard the whole story about an hour or so ago, Toby. Long after you would have pulled your agents back." He didn't want to start their discussion with that hanging between them.

As Gibbs led the way into the room, and immediately crossed to the eternally brewing coffee, pouring out a cup for himself and Fornell into two of the Styrofoam cups sitting beside the industrial sized percolator, Fornell asked, "How'd you end up with Kreiger, and is she okay?"

"Ziva," Gibbs answered. "Kreiger got away after getting winged in the safe house and made it to a local mall. She called Ziva for help, and Ziva eventually brought her over to my house. She's going to be okay. Ducky patched her up, and she finally managed to tell us what happened. I don't have all the particulars, 'cause she wasn't in good enough shape to get them all, but I intend to in the morning, after she's gotten some sleep," he said, as he handed a cup to Fornell, and nodded towards two chairs tucked in the corner, away from the door.

"Christ, what a mess," Fornell said, after he took a sip of the coffee.

"What's going on, Tobias? How'd this get so out of control?"

"I wish I knew. These guys are pros. We'd never have gotten wind of this if it hadn't been for one of the vic's personal assistants. Did Kreiger fill you in on that?" Fornell asked.

"Yeah, I got most of the basics, just no details," Gibbs said.

"It's like they know exactly what to do to avoid detection, and I don't have any idea how they found out about the surveillance team. That's why we're so sure they must have inside information on what we've been doing," Fornell said, shaking his head. "I'm going to need Kreiger back, tomorrow," he added as an after thought. "Maybe she can shed some light on all this."

"You aren't going to be able to keep her safe, Toby. They hit one of your safe houses, looking for the girl. Let me keep her; they won't think to look for her where I've got her. You can be there in the morning, when I talk to her, but I don't want anyone else from the Bureau to know where she's stashed. If you can't trust your own people, I'm sure as hell not going to."

"It's not your case, Jethro," Fornell said, shaking his head.

"It is now. Melissa Carter is the wife of a Marine officer. That makes it an NCIS case," Gibbs said stubbornly.

"We've got hours of manpower poured into this already," Fornell objected, "and now, four of my agents have paid for it with their lives. I'm not going to let this go."

"Did you get anything from any of the crime scenes?" Gibbs asked, wanting to move away from the sore subject for the moment, knowing they would have to revisit it soon enough.

"Not a damned thing. They even policed their rounds. They pulverized the equipment and and took the hard drives from the computers at the surveillance site. Forensics say there's no way they'll be able to retrieve any of the material. Fortunately, a lot of it was on direct feed back to Headquarters, so we've got a permanent record of what our people recorded over the last several days. They took every piece of paperwork that was in the room, and we're still trying to piece together what information that provided them. We don't know how they got into the building yet, but the tech people did determine that they had loosed some kind of bug into the building's computerized internal security system that disabled all of the building's internal and external cameras for a period of one half hour. So, even if we knew what we were looking for, we won't have any pictures of them, coming or going." Fornell slammed his fist on the table. "It's like they're fucking ghosts."

"That's why Kreiger's better off with me," Gibbs said, seeing his opening. "She must have seen something Tobias. The attack with the Hummer seems out of character for this group, so they have to be afraid of her for some reason. If that's true, and you really do have a leak, there isn't anywhere you could put her that would keep her safe. You have to know that," Gibbs pushed.

Fornell sighed. He knew Gibbs was right – he usually was. The problem was, he didn't know how he could explain that to his boss. The Director wasn't going to want NCIS interfering in the case, not after Glenn got shot. By tomorrow that would be all over the papers, and the push for a rapid and public resolution would be on.

Gibbs could tell that Fornell was weakening. Now was the time to push harder. "Let me keep the girl, Tobias. Don't tell anyone I have her. Let them believe that you think the perps got her. I'll investigate any leads she can give us, and your team can keep going with what you already have. That way, no one will pay too much attention to what NCIS is up to. You and I will keep each other briefed on everything the other is doing, but no one else at the Bureau has to know. When it's all said and done, I don't care if the FBI takes all the credit, I just want to get Melissa Carter back, and get the bastards that did this, before they take someone else."

Fornell knew Gibbs was being more than fair. He really did have a right to investigate the case, along with the FBI. Melissa Carter ensured that. His willingness to stay under the radar was over and above. It also gave Fornell some hope. Maybe if no one knew what Gibbs and his team were up to, they'd actually have a chance of sneaking up on the syndicate, without them scrambling away before he could get a real handle on them. "If you turn up the break that leads us to them, the FBI's in on the bust?" he asked.

"Only you, and anyone else you can be completely sure is clean," Gibbs stipulated, "and you get the credit," he added to sweeten the deal, knowing he wasn't going to share that part of his bargain with Jenny.

"Deal," Fornell said.


	4. Chapter 4

"**A Friend in Need" – Chapter Four**

When Gibbs and Fornell had finished their coffee they went back to the waiting room, where they found Tony and the two FBI agents sitting, quietly discussing the prospects of their favorite football teams. Tony had worked hard to break the tension in the room when the older men had left, remembering how scared and angry he'd been when Kate had been killed, and knowing these men must be feeling similarly. He had sought a topic that would take their minds off the events of the day, if only for a short while. All discussion halted, however, when the two higher ranking agents walked in. Tony looked over at Fornell, and immediately noticed the more relaxed posture of the older FBI agent. 'He and Gibbs must have worked something out,' Tony thought to himself.

"Any word?" Fornell asked his agents, as he settled back down into a chair.

"No Sir," one of the men answered.

Fornell just sighed. Gibbs sat down beside Fornell, prepared to spend some time waiting to hear how Langer and Glenn were doing, since there was little any of them could do until morning. Looking over at Tony, he saw how tired the younger man looked. "Why don't you try and get some sleep, DiNozzo? We might as well stay here until the doctors have an update on Langer's condition. We have to be back at the Naval Yard in just a couple of hours, anyway."

Tony looked at Gibbs, knowing he was as tired as he was; but that he wouldn't allow himself sleep until he knew how Langer was doing. Fornell could obviously use the silent support of his presence, as well. There wasn't anything he could do to relieve Gibbs' exhaustion, but he could make sure that Gibbs kept his strength up. "I've got a better idea. How about I go and get everyone something to eat, something that hasn't come from a vending machine? There are a couple of all night places right around here."

His suggestion elicited a variety of responses. The two younger agents looked at him in surprise, with just a touch of relief shining through, which told Tony they had probably not eaten in hours. Fornell nodded in gratitude. But the expression that mattered the most to Tony was the pride on Gibbs' face. "Sounds good," was all Gibbs said, but it was enough for Tony. Feeling revived, as if he'd just had a short power nap, Tony headed for the door.

"Back in a bit," he said, as he headed down the hallway to the elevator.

Once Tony was gone, time dragged as they sat in silence, each man lost in his own thoughts. Finally, voices in the hall cut through their private ruminations, and they all turned towards the door, to see who was approaching. A trim, middle aged man, his dark hair just beginning to show some grey at the temples, stepped into the room. He was neatly dressed in an elegant grey suit, which, despite its impeccable tailoring, did nothing to compliment his olive tinged, Mediterranean skin, and the dark circles under his eyes suggested that this had been a long, hard day for him. On his heels were two other people, a man and a woman, both dressed in conservative suits, both as bedraggled as the man who proceeded them into the room. The woman's blonde hair was pulled back in a tight bun, although large clumps of stray hair had escaped from its tight embrace and been swept behind her ears. She seemed to be in her mid thirties, and there was a tight, pinched quality to her mouth that gave her a slightly surly appearance. Any makeup that had once been on her face, had long since melted away, and she seemed pale and tense. The man, who could well have been approaching fifty, judging from his craggy face, rather than his lean muscular body, looked at the others in the room with sharp eyes that took in every detail in one sweeping glance. His face showed surprise when he saw Gibbs, but it was Fornell that he focused on.

Gibbs and Fornell stood up as the group entered. Gibbs knew each of the three people, to varying degrees, although it had been a long time since he'd seen them. The elegantly dressed man hurried over to Fornell. "Tobias," he greeted the senior agent. "Any word on Director Glenn and the other men?"

"Nothing new, Richard," Fornell said. "Captain DeAngelo, do you know Special Agent Jethro Gibbs, from NCIS?"

"Gibbs," DeAngelo said, extending his hand, "it's been a long time."

"It sure has," Gibbs said, as he shook the proffered hand. Captain Richard DeAngelo had the dubious honor of being D.C. Metro's FBI liaison. For the past the past five years his job had required him to straddle the fence between looking at the world like the cop he had been for all of his adult life, and trying to see the bigger picture of joint investigations with a federal agency, which was charged with protecting the entire country. It was a very difficult juggling act, and someone was always angry with him; be it his fellow Metro cops, or whichever FBI division he was supposed to be supporting at that given moment. Gibbs didn't envy him his position, but as far as he could tell, DeAngelo had always seemed to handle the pressures with grace and dignity. "How have you been, Captain?" he asked.

"Can't really complain, although this has been one hell of a day," DeAngelo said, shaking his head in disgust. He'd spent most of the afternoon trying to calm the Police Commissioner down, since he was irate over the Bureau's refusal to share any real information with Metro. He'd also spent a couple of frustrating hours with Fornell, trying unsuccessfully to get the Supervisory Agent to share a few more basic facts about the on-going investigation that had led to the deaths of five FBI agents, and the wounding of three others. Not to mention the apparent disappearance of a rookie who had been in protective custody. 'One hell of a day' didn't even begin to cover his feelings on today's events, beyond it being completely FUBAR. In short, he'd spent the day like almost every other, on a tight rope, creeping from platform to platform, precariously balancing in the middle, the only difference was that today the distance to the ground seemed so much farther away.

While Gibbs had been greeting DeAngelo, the craggy faced man had moved over to talk to Fornell. "So, I heard you say there wasn't anything new yet," he said wearily.

"Nothing yet, Ed," Fornell confirmed kindly. The man he was speaking to was Edward Morgan, the leader of the five person team that had been assigned to conduct the surveillance; Brent Langer and Victor Merit were on his team, as was the woman standing just inside the door, Liz Templeton. Fornell had known Morgan for years. As a matter of fact, Morgan had been assigned to his team when he was just a rookie, and Fornell had trained him. There probably wasn't anyone in the entire Bureau that Fornell trusted and respected more, and it made him sick that this had happened to Morgan's team.

When Gibbs and DeAngelo ran out of things to say, which happened fairly quickly as they didn't know each other very well, Gibbs looked over at the woman standing by the door. "Hello Liz," he said, acknowledging the younger woman. He hadn't seen Templeton in almost seven years, and he couldn't help notice that time had not treated her well. When last he saw her, there had been a kind of patrician beauty to the younger woman, but age had hollowed her face, and what once had been a showcase for high, classic cheekbones, now looked gaunt. There were creases around her mouth and eyes, that suggested she still wore a scowl more often than a smile, and he couldn't help thinking that he was glad she was no longer on his team. 'But this had been a horrible day for her,' he told himself, and he silently vowed to give her the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps what he was seeing was merely a byproduct of fatigue and sorrow.

Liz returned Gibbs' greeting, but couldn't think of anything else to say to the man. They had not parted on good terms, and she had never stopped resenting him. At first she had been startled to see Gibbs there, but then she had remembered that once Brent had joked with Courtney about the improbability of three FBI agents working on the same team, all who had worked with Gibbs and lived to tell the tale. Brent had talked about Gibbs a few other times as well, and she was well aware that his working relationship with the NCIS team leader had been very different than her own. Despite the jokes Langer had made, she could tell that he held Gibbs in high esteem. Gibbs had always been loyal to his agents, past and present; that she knew. She was pretty sure, however, if she had been the one injured that Gibbs wouldn't be at the hospital inquiring about her welfare. She was just about to force herself to say something more to Gibbs when she heard someone else coming in the room, and caught the tantalizing aroma of food. Turning around, she found herself face to face with Tony DiNozzo.

He stood in the door, clutching two bags of food and balancing a tray laden with cups of coffee, blocked from entering further by Liz. When Liz turned to look at him in surprise, he gave a small smile and said, "Hey Liz." Then looking at the new arrivals, he added, "Good thing I bought extra."

"Still fetching and carrying for Gibbs, I see," Liz said, and then kicked herself, not sure what exactly it was about the ex-Baltimore detective that brought out the worst in her. It was just that everything about him irritated her, from his carefully styled hair to his pristine imported Italian shoes. He reeked of money and expensive taste, and as much as she disavowed any interest in those things, it made her jealous.

Tony ignored the jab, and said, "There are days that's what being a senior agent feels like," he said, allowing his smile to become a bit wider, as if they'd just shared a private joke. He wasn't going to let the sharp tongued agent get his goat, not when there were so many more pressing issues to deal with, although he hadn't been able to resist letting her know where he stood in the NCIS chain of command.

Gibbs, who had been watching the little confrontation between the two, didn't want it to go any further, so he stepped over to them. "Give me the coffee DiNozzo. I'll pass it out while you deal with the food," he said, just as Liz was opening her mouth to make a retort, and he reached out, and took the tray from Tony. There were six cups of coffee on it, not quite enough to go around, but Gibbs wasn't too worried. He could always get more down the hall. "Want one?" he asked Liz, when he had the tray securely in hand.

"Sure," she said, deflating, as she reached over to liberate one of the cups, although she managed to send another glare Tony's way before he moved off to offer food to the other people in the room.

Gibbs then went over to the two agents who'd been in the waiting room when he and Tony had arrived. Sam Wilson, the shorter of the two, shook his head in refusal, but Jeff Estes, nodded gratefully, as he helped himself to a coffee and a couple of the little packets of cream nestled between the cups. "Thanks," he said to Gibbs, as he lifted the lid to pour in the cream.

Gibbs nodded in acknowledgement, and stepped over to DeAngelo, who'd moved away from Fornell and Morgan a bit, since they seemed to be involved in some sort of disagreement. DeAngelo took a coffee with a sigh of gratitude. "Wasn't sure how I was going to make it much longer. This should really help," he told Gibbs, although his attention was really focused on the two men across from him, and their whispered conversation.

"Coffee usually does," Gibbs agreed, as he approached Fornell and his team leader. "Ed, Tobias, coffee?" he asked. Both men snagged a cup off the drink carrier, and then resumed their discussion. From what he heard, Fornell was insisting that Morgan needed to go home and get some sleep, and Morgan was disagreeing. Not wanting to interfere, Gibbs moved on. Now there was just one cup of coffee left. Gibbs looked at the cup, and then around the room. Tony was passing out food, of which there seemed to be an abundance.

When everyone else had been served, Tony approached Gibbs. "Have one, Boss," he said, as he pulled out a wrapped egg and bacon sandwich. Gibbs took the proffered sandwich, and tried to hand the last cup of coffee to Tony. "Nah, you go ahead and take it," Tony said. "I had a couple of cups while I was waiting for the food. If I drink any more I'll get as hyper as Abby, and we wouldn't want that to happen," he said with a grin, his words intended to effectively stop any argument Gibbs might try to make.

Liz, who'd been silently watching the scene from her spot by the door, couldn't believe what she'd just seen. Gibbs had offered the last cup of coffee to DiNozzo, rather than automatically keeping it for himself. She had never thought to see him willingly deprive himself of his drug of choice, and the smile DiNozzo had given him spoke of familiarity and friendship. God, she hated that smile! Familiarity and friendship - those were never words anyone would have used to describe her working relationship with Gibbs. In the month she'd slaved under him, she had gotten the impression that everything she did for the man was somehow a disappointment, although she'd never had any verbal confirmation of that, since he never said anything more to her than necessity dictated. 'So, what makes DiNozzo so special? He's just a pampered preppy, playing at cops and robbers,' she thought. She'd seen his file when he first started at NCIS – he'd been a barely above average student, and although his solve rates had been high, they were for police departments, not a government agency. He'd never been able to hold down a job for more than two years at a time before. So how had he managed to last seven years with Gibbs, who was known for the demanding expectations he placed on his agents? What made him so exceptional?

Liz wasn't the only one watching the two NCIS agents. DeAngelo was now studying them as well, having lost interest in what Morgan was discussing with his supervisor, as it didn't seem to have anything to do with the case. DeAngelo hadn't figured out why NCIS was there. He hadn't been aware that this was a joint operation, and he still wasn't sure it was. So, why was Gibbs here? And who was the younger man that had brought the food and coffee? He hadn't been introduced to him yet, although it was clear he was somehow attached to Gibbs. That was obvious by merely observing their body language. He could tell the two men were comfortable with each other, and although the younger man had called Gibbs "Boss," they seemed too at ease with each other to be merely supervisor and subordinate. Finally, his curiosity won out, and since he was too tired to be subtle, he went for the direct approach. Walking over to Gibbs, he said, "I wasn't aware that NCIS was working this operation."

"Oh, we're not," Gibbs said to him. "Brent Langer was on my team for a long time. So, when I heard what happened, I came over to see how he was doing," Gibbs explained. Then, noticing DeAngelo studying Tony, he asked, "Captain DeAngelo, have you met my Senior Agent, Anthony DiNozzo?"

"I don't believe so. I think I'd remember another good Italian name," DeAngelo said, offering Tony his hand, ever the consummate politician.

"Sir," Tony said as he shook, "I just wish we'd met under better circumstances."

"Yes, this has certainly been a trying day," DeAngelo agreed.

While they were making small talk, Fornell took the opportunity to pull Morgan further away from everyone in the room. There were things Ed needed to know, and this looked like it was going to be Fornell's best opportunity to share some of them. "Don't react to what I'm going to tell you," he hissed at the team leader, once they were out of earshot of everyone else, and he waited until Morgan nodded his agreement. "Kreiger's fine. Gibbs has her. She managed to get away and call one of Gibbs' agents for help." When it looked like Morgan was going to start asking a lot of questions, he raised his hand to stop the man. "I'll tell you more when we're alone, but I don't want anyone else to know. We don't know who to trust."

"How are you going to explain calling off the search for her?" Morgan asked, in a whisper.

"We'll say we think the attackers at the safe house got her," Fornell said, sharing with Morgan what he and Gibbs had settled on earlier.

"Not sure anyone will buy that," Morgan said.

"They will if we all act like we believe it," Fornell said.

"There's more, isn't there?" Morgan asked, as he glanced over at where Gibbs stood talking with Captain DeAngelo.

"Yeah, but this isn't the place to discuss it. You and I'll deal with it later," Fornell said. "Just make sure you don't say anything about this to anyone but me, for now," he ordered, knowing that Morgan would obey, even if he didn't like it.

"Okay," Morgan agreed reluctantly, as he rubbed at his eyes. He was too tired to put up much of a fight right now, plus, over the years he'd learned that Fornell never did anything without having a good reason. He'd just have to wait until later to hear what his reasoning was. "I need to sit down for awhile," he admitted when his legs threatened to give out on him, as he turned towards the chairs in the center of the room.

"I really wish you'd go home for just a couple of hours," Fornell said, resuming the argument they'd been having earlier.

"I'm not going anywhere until I know how Langer and Vic are doing and I've seen them for myself," Morgan reiterated stubbornly. "You should be the one who goes home, Fornell. You've been here since early this afternoon."

"He's right, Tobias," Gibbs said, having crossed over to the men just in time to hear the last sentence Morgan said. "It's his place to be here, as their team leader. You really should go home for a while, though, if only to shower and change clothes."

"In a bit," Fornell said, and stubbornly sat back down.

Gibbs sighed, and sat down also, determined to try again in a while. As he sat, he looked across the room to where Tony stood talking to Templeton and frowned.

When Gibbs had left to talk to Fornell, DeAngelo had excused himself to answer a text message he'd just received, and Liz had taken the opportunity to sidle up to Tony. "Seven years is along time to work with Gibbs," she observed. "I don't think anyone's ever stayed with him that long."

"Yeah, I sure beat your one month prediction, didn't I?" Tony asked, remembering the warning Liz had given him on what had been his first day and her last day at NCIS.

"He must have found the perfect whipping boy, and you must be a glutton for punishment," she observed. "Or maybe no one else wants you?" she asked cattily.

"I prefer to think of it as he being a master with a lot to teach, and me being a slow learner," Tony said with amusement, ignoring the last remark completely.

"I'll buy the slow learner part," Liz said, "since he's still got you doing coffee runs. Guess he's really lowered the requirements for his senior agent position."

Gibbs' frown deepened into a scowl. Liz had always had an acid tongue, and now that he thought back, he remembered how she'd sneered over Tony's background when he'd had her run a check on him, back when he was still a detective in Baltimore. Looking around the room, Gibbs saw that the two younger FBI agents were also now zeroed in on the confrontation between Tony and Liz.

"Yeah, well, we already have an MIT grad on the team, so someone has to represent the common man," Tony said with a smile, refusing to rise to the bait, although he was beginning to grow uncomfortable with the situation. Gibbs was probably the only one in the room who realized just how disingenuous Tony's smile was, and he knew it was only the gravity of the situation that was keeping Tony from counter-attacking, which just made Liz seem more petty to Gibbs.

"Most people with as much experience as you, especially ones trained by Gibbs, would be leading their own teams by now," Liz snipped. "Wonder why Gibbs hasn't recommended you?" she said, as if thinking out loud. "Of course, it'd probably be hard to find someone like you to take your place." Her tone made it clear that that had not been a compliment. "At least he doesn't make you wear a collar - like your last master," she said sweetly, referring to the collar Tony had been forced to wear when he'd been held by a serial killer on the case that had brought him to Gibbs' attention. The same case that had spelled the end of her tenure with NCIS.

That last jab hit Tony in the gut, and he had to work to keep from visibly showing that she'd managed to score a point. Summoning up his last ounce of reserve, he managed another small smile. "Well, maybe you were right earlier. A good whipping boy is hard to find," Tony told her, not wanting to make a scene, and knowing that anything he said to defend himself would only make matters worse. Templeton was clearly baiting him, even though he had no idea what he'd ever done to the woman to make her hate him so much.

"Okay, that's it," Gibbs growled, loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. Tony shouldn't have to stand there and take that abuse. Glancing over at Fornell, he saw that the FBI agent had also been listening to what was going on. "We're going," he said to Fornell, as he reached over and grabbed Fornell's coat and jacket from the chair next to him.

"Sure," Fornell said. He'd watched what had been happening between Templeton and DiNozzo and would have stopped it if he'd had more energy. His inability to do so served to convince him that he really did need a change of scenery. As it was, he fully understood why Gibbs felt the need to leave just then, and he knew if they didn't leave, there was a good chance Gibbs would pulverize Templeton, verbally, if not physically.

Gibbs stood, and snapped, "DiNozzo, we're leaving. Now!" He glared at Liz as Tony hurried over to join Fornell and Gibbs, and everyone in the room watched silently, aware that the NCIS team leader was furious. Unfortunately, just before they could reach the door, a doctor came into the room and crossed over to Fornell, since that was who he'd been reporting to all evening.

"I'm very sorry, Agent Fornell," he said, "but we lost Director Glenn."

Morgan, who had stood when the doctor entered, asked, "What about Agents Langer and Merit?"

"Let me be blunt. Agent Langer is still waging his own battle for survival, and even though his lung was repaired in surgery, and we've been giving him a series of strong antibiotics, an infection has set in, and his fever is rising. So far, we haven't been able to bring it down. We're still very concerned about his condition. Agent Merit's prospects look much better. He's still coming out of the anesthesia, and although he's awake, he isn't yet fully coherent, since we have him on very strong analgesics, after his surgery."

"Can Agent Morgan and I see him for a few minutes?" Fornell asked.

"I can only let you both in there for a few minutes. I don't want to wear him out. After that, he can have one visitor for ten minutes, every hour, until he's completely out of danger," the doctor said, knowing his patient was a federal officer and that it was probably important that both men talk to him briefly, as he led them into the ward.

Tony had been watching Gibbs' face when the doctor had broken the news about Langer. It didn't sound good, and Gibbs was visibly shaken. "Let's go over here, while we wait for Fornell," Tony said to him. He wanted to put some space between Gibbs and everyone else in the room, so that the older man could have some privacy while he absorbed the new information. Gibbs followed Tony mutely, which served to worry Tony further. Reaching out to squeeze Gibbs' shoulder in reassurance, Tony said, "Brent is a fighter, Boss, you know he'll fight like hell to beat this." Locking eyes with Tony, Gibbs nodded in agreement, but couldn't seem to muster up any words. Silently, however, he pledged to get the bastards that were responsible.

Liz, who had been watching, saw the closeness between Gibbs and DiNozzo. She was practically grinding her teeth together at the fact that somehow, this Baltimore 'cop' had not only lasted more than a month on Gibbs' team, but ended up as Gibbs' Senior Field Agent, and apparently, unbelievably, as his friend. It took all her training not to allow her jaw to drop open when she saw Gibbs allow DiNozzo to touch him, to offer support and friendship. When she heard Tony's statement about Langer, and that he'd called him Brent, she'd been even more shocked. Clearly DiNozzo knew Langer. Did that mean he socialized with him? Were they friends? That just didn't seem fair. Liz had worked with Langer for three years, and the most social thing they had ever done together was grab a beer with the rest of the team, at the successful conclusion of a case. Why did everyone seem to like DiNozzo? And what was wrong with her?

Liz hadn't been the only one watching Gibbs and DiNozzo. DeAngelo, who still stood separate from everyone else in the room, had observed the interaction between the NCIS team leader and his second in command. This confirmed his earlier suspicions that the men were more than just team mates; they were close friends. He didn't know if that information was important, but DeAngelo was too experienced as a politician not to take careful note of every bit of information available to him about the people around him. You just never knew when it would be useful.

When Fornell and Morgan returned to the waiting room it was 4:30 in the morning, and Gibbs could tell that Fornell was dangerously exhausted. Once again reaching for Fornell's things, Gibbs crossed over to him. "Tobias, let's go. Morgan will call you if anything changes."

Fornell didn't argue, he just looked over at Morgan and said, "I'll be back in a few hours. Call me if you need me sooner."

Fornell, Gibbs and Tony walked silently to Tony's car, and Fornell gave a small sigh as he eased himself into the back and spread his legs along the seat. "Why don't you get some sleep while we drive to your house?" Gibbs suggested. "You're not as young as you used to be Toby," he added.

"And you are?" Fornell groused. "When are you going to get some sleep?"

"I haven't spent all day and night worrying about wounded agents, and trying to figure out how an operation fell apart," Gibbs said.

"Why don't you give me the address, and you can both get some sleep while I drive," Tony suggested, before the two old friends could start squabbling again. Since neither man could come up with a logical objection, that's exactly what happened.


	5. Chapter 5

"A Friend in Need" – Chapter Five

Gibbs and Fornell slept all the way to Fornell's house, leaving Tony alone to his private thoughts. He knew he should be as tired as the other two men, but for some reason he wasn't. Maybe it was because he was younger, he supposed, although he suspected that wasn't the real reason. He was fairly sure his run in with Templeton had more to do with his current state of alertness. Her initial greeting, that nasty crack about fetching and carrying for Gibbs, had immediately heightened all his senses. He'd been aware she was gunning for him, even though he couldn't figure out why. She'd taken it up a notch by calling him a whipping boy, and when she referenced the collar, it was like declaring open season. Tony had been both angry and embarrassed, and he'd been keenly aware of everyone else in the room looking at them, as he struggled not to retaliate by stooping to her level. He had been able to feel Gibbs' anger literally crashing through the room like waves, even before he had stood up and announced they were leaving, and that, more than anything, had helped Tony keep his mouth in check. Then, when the doctor had described Langer's condition, Tony, already over-sensitized, had felt Gibbs' pain as if it was his own. Having the two men asleep was actually a relief. It was allowing him time to get control of his emotions again. He'd struggled to hold himself in check ever since Liz had begun her verbal attack, and that, he suspected, was why he felt so wide awake.

When he got to Fornell's, he woke the sleeping men up. It didn't take Fornell all that long to shower and clean up, and by 6:30, after a stop for coffee, they were walking into the bullpen at NCIS headquarters. As Tony had suspected, McGee was already there, and no one was surprised to see Abby, lounging on top of his desk, as they both studied something on McGee's monitor.

When they looked up, alerted to the new arrivals by the sound of the elevator doors, they both zeroed in on Fornell. Then Abby poked McGee and said, "You owe me five bucks," which made him groan.

Fornell looked at them suspiciously, but didn't comment.

Gibbs, after watching Abby, looked at Tony and smirked, "That's why I wouldn't bet you twenty." Tony laughed, thankful for the momentary respite from the suffocating intensity of the last several hours.

Fornell glared at Gibbs then, and said, "I don't even want to know."

"So what's this about Boss?" McGee asked.

"Let's go to Abby's lab," Gibbs ordered, without answering the younger agent's question. He didn't want anyone to overhear their conversation, and even though there were almost no people in yet, Gibbs knew agents would begin pouring in within the hour.

Abby and McGee gave each other a puzzled look, but scrambled to comply, hurrying to follow Gibbs as he led the way back to the elevator.

When they got down to the lab, Gibbs turned to Abby and signed for her to kill any video and audio surveillance in the room. Abby raised an eyebrow in silent question, but hurriedly humored Gibbs. When she was sure there was no way anyone would be able to record the meeting, she told Gibbs out loud, "All set. Spill!"

Gibbs and Tony then took turns describing Ziva showing up with Courtney, Ducky treating a wounded Courtney and then being moved to Ducky's, with Ziva along as bodyguard. They also recounted all that Courtney had told them the previous night. At some point during the recitation, Jenny arrived, and stood, silently listening again to the information she'd learned the night before. No one said anything until Gibbs got to the raid on the surveillance team, and the wounding of Vic Merit and Brent Langer. At that point, Abby had interrupted, demanding to know how Brent was, and then quietly tearing up when Gibbs' shared what the doctor had said.

"I want to go see him," Abby stated. "He may have deserted us and gone to work for the dark side," she said, with a quick glance at Fornell, "but he's still a good guy, and he'll always be family." Abby, who had a hard time letting go of anyone, had remained friends with Langer, even after he started working for the FBI, an act she likened to a cardinal sin, and made a point of having drinks with him at least once a month.

For his part, Fornell was having a hard time listening to Gibbs. He hadn't heard all the details of Kreiger's narrow escape from the ruthless killers the night before, and he was angered all over again that one of his own had been hunted down and forced to seek refuge with someone from another agency, since she felt like she couldn't safely trust any of her own people. Now, instead of being able to go get the bastards with his own agents, he was having to go to the same agency that Kreiger had for help, knowing these people were incorruptible, that they considered Langer one of their own. NCIS would move heaven and earth to find the people who were holding Melissa Carter, a Marine wife, and take the scumbags into custody. To top it all off, he knew that Gibbs had been serious when he'd promised not to seek any credit for capturing the criminals, that just stopping the bastards would be enough for him. There were days when he had to ask himself if the prestige of working for the FBI was really worth it. More and more he found himself thinking it might be nice to work for an agency that actually seemed to work hard at staying under the radar. The FBI was the complete opposite. They wanted their every accomplishment splashed all over the front page of newspapers and making the nightly news. 'When did it stop being about putting the bad people away,' he wondered, 'and more about the public face that would get them higher appropriations come budget time.'

By the time Fornell managed to drag his thoughts back to what was being discussed, Gibbs had finished summarizing the events of yesterday, and was explaining to everyone what he and Fornell had agreed upon – that NCIS would shelter Agent Kreiger and covertly start its own investigation, so that whoever was leaking information at the FBI would be none the wiser.

"What makes you so sure there's a leak at the FBI?" McGee inquired.

Gibbs pointed out that would be the most likely explanation for how the kidnappers knew about the FBI investigation, and then told them that on top of that, the fact they had known where to find Courtney further suggested inside information. As he talked, he'd become more and more irritated, as Abby and McGee started sneaking looks at each other. Finally, when he was midway through explaining how both the interior and exterior cameras at the safe house had been disabled, so surely that meant someone with direct knowledge of the security codes had to have been involved, he was unable to ignore it anymore. "What ever you're thinking, spit it out," he demanded, "and stop with the knowing looks."

Abby and McGee looked at each other again, silently willing the other to answer. "Well, um, Boss, you see," McGee began, uncomfortable with sharing an opinion that contradicted Gibbs'.

"Oh, for God's sake McGee," Abby cut in, impatiently. "What he's trying to say is that none of that has to depend on inside information. Anyone with enough computer skills could have deactivated the security cameras at the safe house. I've been able to hack into the FBI since I was fifteen," she said, smiling rather predatorily at Fornell. "Plus, if the bad guys took all the paper at the surveillance location, they probably got Courtney's cell number. Then, all they would have to do was track her phone to know where to find her."

"That makes sense, Boss," Tony exclaimed. "Remember how Courtney said she pulled the battery from her cell phone after she got away from the safe house? That's probably why they couldn't find her."

When Abby and McGee heard that, they both grinned and reached over to give each other a satisfied high five, which earned them another glare from Gibbs. "Maybe so," Gibbs allowed, "but we aren't going to relax our guard, because it doesn't disprove a leak either. All the hard drives from the computers at the surveillance site were taken, and there hasn't been a trace of evidence left at any of the attack sites, so at the very least, these guys know a lot about forensics and investigative techniques, and we know they want to get their hands on Kreiger."

"So, what do you want us to do?" Abby asked, almost bouncing in her chair, eager to start.

"I want you and McGee to research the missing executive, Melissa Carter; find out absolutely everything you can about her, there's no telling what is going to be useful. Then, see about getting into Metro's system and find out what they have on the Hummer attack. It happened in broad daylight, and even though these people are careful, there had to be someone on the street who took pictures with their camera – nothing seems to happen completely unrecorded these days. Even though the FBI took over the crime scene, it's more likely that an average citizen would share their pictures with the police, rather than the FBI, especially since the police were the first on the scene. This may be our chance to get a look at them, since they disabled the security cameras everywhere else," Gibbs said. When he was done, Abby started waving her hand around in the air, like an overeager student in a class. Smiling slightly, and marveling at how Abby always seemed able to amuse him, even in the worst of situations, he said, "Yeah Abs, go ahead."

"Thanks," she said. "You know, just because they got to the security cameras, doesn't mean we aren't going to be able to get a look at them. There are still the traffic cams and cameras from other buildings to look into."

"Good point," Gibbs said. "Go ahead and look into those too."

It was at that point that Fornell hoisted the black shoulder bag off his shoulder that had been there since they came in, and set it down on the table next to where Abby and McGee stood. "What's this?" Abby asked.

"My laptop," Fornell said, looking over at Jenny, to make sure she understood the significance of what he was about to do. Pulling a piece of paper out of the side zipper pocket on the bag, he handed it to McGee. "This has all my ID codes and passwords on it. With these, you should have no trouble accessing every computer system at the Hoover Building, and you won't have to waste time hacking in," he said, giving Abby and McGee a small smile, as he dished out the backhanded compliment. He knew this was an enormous risk. Abby would most certainly make a copy of his hard drive – she wouldn't be able to resist - but you had to trust someone, at some point, Fornell had decided, and these were the people he'd decided to trust. What surprised him was how comfortable he was with this decision. If anyone ever found out what he'd just done, it would spell the end of his career, but somehow, he knew that would never happen. "Everything the team recorded as they ran their surveillance on the building, hoping to get information on the kidnapping scheme, was sent by direct feed to Headquarters. When you get into the system, you'll be able to download both the audio and visual recordings. Maybe you'll see something we missed. It should also let you get a look at what was done to knock out the cameras. Maybe if we understand how they did it, we'll learn more about them."

Gibbs had been stunned when Tobias had offered up his computer. They hadn't talked about this in advance, and although he knew Fornell had agreed to work with NCIS, he hadn't expected this kind of cooperation. 'Hell,' he thought, 'I wouldn't have even asked for it.' Apparently he wasn't the only one who recognized what an act of faith it had been, because Abby had rushed over to the FBI agent, and was in the process of wrapping him in a tight hug. Fornell was clearing his throat, incredibly uncomfortable with such intimate physical contact, and his eyes were beseechingly seeking out Gibbs.

"That's enough, Abs," Gibbs said, choking on his laughter, which caused everyone else in the room to laugh over Fornell's discomfort. "I don't think they're very big on hugs over at the Bureau." Abby reluctantly let Fornell go, but the moment had served to bring some much needed levity to the situation, and everyone was feeling just a little bit better. Gibbs couldn't help taking a brief moment to think about how proud he was of his people, each one so different, and yet together, as tight a team as anyone could ever hope for. "We need to get over to Ducky's and talk to Kreiger," he said, "see what she can tell us. McGee, you stay here and work with Abs. Let us know if you find anything useful, and we'll keep you informed on what we learn from the girl."

"Jethro," Jenny said, speaking for the first time since she'd arrived. "Everyone must be exhausted, including Ziva. I want to send Frank Balboa's team to Reston to take over protection duty this afternoon. You all are going to need to rest, or you'll be too tired to get these people, and even though Ziva will probably not be willing to leave Agent Kreiger alone, she too is going to have to get some sleep. I'll talk to Balboa, make it clear that this is a top secret operation. I'll keep it off the books so there won't be any way anyone else can get wind of it, I can assure you," she said.

"Yeah, that's a good idea," Gibbs acknowledged. He might not like having to involve another team, but he knew that Jenny was right. They were going to have to get some sleep, and sooner rather than later. Most of them had been going straight for over 24 hours, and although this wasn't the first time that had happened, and wouldn't be the last, he knew they weren't in top form, and exhaustion led to mistakes, which was something they couldn't afford to have happen. "Have them there by noon. Make sure they know to be inconspicuous," he added. Then goodbyes and last minute instructions were given, and before Tony knew it, he, Gibbs and Fornell were once again back in his car, this time headed for Ducky's home in Reston, VA.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

While all of that had been happening, things were beginning to stir at Ducky's house as well. Courtney had woken up about an hour ago, driven from sleep by a nightmare. She'd been put to bed the night before in a second floor guest room. Ziva and Dr. Hampton had helped her undress and then slipped her into one of Ducky's mother's sleeveless cotton nightgowns, so nothing was rubbing against the bandages on her shoulder. Ducky had insisted that she take a couple of analgesics and antibiotics, and she was already getting sleepy as she donned the unfamiliar garment. He'd also given her a glass of vanilla flavored kefir, since food wasn't something she'd been able to tolerate at that moment, but he wanted her stomach coated so she wouldn't have a reaction to the antibiotics. And there she had lain, blissfully unaware of any of the activities around her, until her dreams had shattered the drug induced sleep. Upon waking she shot up from the pillow, momentarily disoriented. Pain radiated from her shoulder, as the analgesics had worn off during the night, clearing the nightmare from her head, and memories of the day before washed over her, so vivid it was as if she was reliving them.

She thought of Brent and Vic, covered in blood and barely alive when she returned to the office. The next image that flashed into her mind was of Assistant Director Glenn grabbing her by the arm and literally shoving her down on the floor of the SUV when the gunshots had erupted from the Hummer in front of them. She heard glass breaking, then Bill Flowers, their driver, an agent she knew only vaguely, cry out as he was hit repeatedly by the bullets from the AK-47s that were being aimed at them. She felt Glenn's body fall on top of her, and heard him grunt in pain as he, too, was hit repeatedly. Courtney could barely remember the sounds of the sirens that heralded the arrival of the DC Metro cops who were first on scene. She had slowly become aware of the lack of gunfire, and then there had been cops yelling outside the vehicle, asking if anyone was hit. One look into the SUV, and calls had gone out for EMTs and ambulances, and she heard someone recognize the plates as government, then someone else saying they were running the plates, then everything became too much, and she must have passed out from the shock.

Courtney remembered with a shudder what had happened when she returned to consciousness. She'd looked down and realized she was covered in blood. Literally, covered in blood. She knew some of it came from her efforts to offer aid to Brent and Vic, but the blood now covering her face and the rest of her clothes had to have come from Assistant Director Glenn, and she had known that amount of blood was not a good sign. She'd found herself lying on a gurney, and a female EMT was frantically checking her for injuries. When Courtney somehow found her voice she'd tried to tell the woman that she wasn't injured, it wasn't her blood. As soon as the EMT realized that Courtney was conscious, and heard Courtney's assurances that she wasn't injured, she told her she was probably in shock and to stay put, she was going to help the other EMTs working on the men from the SUV. Courtney nodded and laid her head back on the gurney, trying to take stock of everything that happened today.

She had realized she had to phone her boss, and let Morgan know that more FBI agents were injured and possibly dead. Fumbling in her pocket she'd been relieved to find her cell phone still intact, and pressed speed dial 1 to contact Morgan. As soon as she heard his voice, she started talking, telling him about the Hummer, and that Glenn was probably seriously injured, or maybe dead for all she knew and that Flowers was most probably already dead. Her voice started going up the further into her report she got, and she could hear Morgan yelling at her to calm the hell down and give him a location so he could get agents on the way to assist her. She told him the local LEOs and paramedics were on-scene, and everyone was being treated, but she didn't know where they were, and at that point, a police officer approached her to take a statement. She handed him her phone, saying in a barely audible voice, "Please tell my boss where we are... I don't know where we are.... can you please..." The officer had taken pity on her, and after reaching into the ambulance and grabbing a latex glove, he'd taken the bloody phone out of her hand with a gloved hand. The officer heard someone yelling "Kreiger, Kreiger, are you still there?? Where the hell are you???" The officer identified himself, and spoke to Morgan, who identified himself a Supervisory Special Agent Morgan, of the FBI. After giving Morgan the location of the ambush, and a quick assessment on the conditions of the three occupants of the SUV, he'd assured the FBI agent that they would guard all of the occupants until the FBI arrived.

As soon as the call terminated, the officer had returned Courtney's phone to her, and then stepped away, but Courtney had been able to hear him place his own call to Metro's HQ to talk to his boss. He told him that a FBI SUV had been attacked, ambushed for lack of a better description, and that an Assistant Director and two agents were injured. He also told him about his conversation with Morgan, and that the FBI was claiming jurisdiction, and he was going to need back-up from somebody much higher up the food chain if they had a hope in hell of finding out who was waging war on the streets of DC, and taking out feds with no hesitation.

Courtney was spared from having to relive any more of the previous events for the moment, when Ziva came gliding into the room to check on her. Ziva had stood guard during the night, roaming the house, constantly checking the front and back areas of the house to ensure the safety of its residents. She was still tired from the events of the past week, but at least she had gotten a good solid six hours of sleep before this whole nightmare began, not that it had made up for an entire week of lost sleep, but it gone a long way towards allowing her to function normally again. Also having Courtney's situation to focus on had taken her attention away from her lingering embarrassment over her lapses in judgment during the prior case, and lessened her anger and disappointment with herself for her inability to get past the events that had occurred. Courtney's safety was now her responsibility, and Ziva was excellent at discharging her responsibilities on protection details. "I am glad to see you are awake," Ziva said to her friend, when she saw Courtney sitting up in the bed, although she was privately disturbed by the sweat on Courtney's face, and the slightly wild look in her eyes. "Are you in pain?" she asked.

"No, no, I'm okay," Courtney assured her. "I was just thinking about everything that happened yesterday."

"Well, no need to think about that right now. Gibbs, Tony and Fornell are on their way here, so there will be lots of time to go over that later. We need to get you showered and into some clean clothes. I asked them to stop and pick up some things for you to wear, but until they can bring them, I have found something for you to put on for the moment," Ziva told her, not yet sharing with the woman just what it was Ziva had procured for her. She helped Courtney out of bed, and produced a plastic bag and some white adhesive tape that would do no further damage to her skin. She proceeded to cover the bandage on her shoulder with the plastic and affixed it with the tape. She then had Courtney walk to the bathroom, following closely behind her. Once she was sure that Courtney was stable enough to tend to her own personal hygiene, Ziva left the room to get the promised articles of clothing.

Ziva, Ducky, Dr. Hampton, Ducky's mother, and her nurse had all been having a quick breakfast when Gibbs had phoned to say he was on his way. Discussion had immediately moved to the need to get Courtney up, bathed and fed, which had led them to the unpleasant realization that Courtney had no clean clothes to put on. Ziva had a bag of fresh clothing that she always kept in her car for emergencies, and Dr. Hampton had the clothes she'd brought with her for the weekend, but, although the two women were able to provide undergarments that would work, neither had outer clothing that would fit the FBI agent. Mrs. Mallard was the closest to Courtney's size. In a stunning display of patience, Ducky had been able to get his mother to understand that they had an unexpected female guest who had arrived without the appropriate changes of clothing, and Mrs. Mallard had immediately offered to take Ziva up to her room to find something for the young woman to wear. Ziva had a bad feeling about this, and had quickly placed a call to Gibbs, explaining that they would need to stop and get Courtney some clothes to wear, and had suggested that Tony would probably be able to help with this, since she was rather afraid of what Gibbs and Fornell would come up with if left to their own devices. But in the end, she had allowed herself to be persuaded to follow Mrs. Mallard to her room, to find something for Courtney to wear while they waited. Jordan, who by now had a better sense of Ziva, had volunteered to accompany them, not at all sure that Ziva possessed the amount of constraint the ensuing situation might require.

When they'd gotten to Mrs. Mallard's suite and Ziva had gotten her first look at the room sized closet, she had been immensely relieved that she'd asked Gibbs to pick up something for Courtney to wear. There was hanger after hanger of dresses of all kinds – floral, paisley, lace, every pastel color known to man, even sequins – floor length, short, and tea length. When Ziva had inquired as to where her pants were, Mrs. Mallard had looked at her askance, and informed her that proper ladies didn't wear trousers, and looked pointedly at both Ziva and Jordan, who were clad in pants. Then, as Ziva was still choking down a reply, Mrs. Mallard began to pull things out of the closet to consider. Her first choice was a green beaded evening dress, circa 1958, which, after studying, she dismissed as too dressy for the morning. Next came a lavender and pink floral dress, that would have made the Queen Mother proud, and Jordan had jumped in before Ziva could respond, telling the older woman that it wasn't right for Courtney's coloring. Finally, after several dresses had been considered and discarded, they settled on what Ziva decided was the least offensive of the available choices, a cream colored lawn dress made of a soft cotton voile, that would have only been appropriate on a debutante at an afternoon tea party.

So, armed with the delicate dress and the more practical bra and panties she and Jordan had provided, Ziva re-entered Courtney's bedroom to wait for her to emerge from the bathroom. Courtney had not been pleased with what she'd been presented with, but as she had no other choice, she'd slipped the garments on, accessorizing the outfit with the white running shoes she'd gotten the day before. Jordan appeared with a breakfast tray, laden with food and more medications and had managed not to laugh out loud when she'd seen the disgruntled FBI agent. Ziva and Jordan had left Courtney alone then, after she'd promised to eat the food and take the pills, knowing she could probably use some time alone to compose herself, and had gone downstairs to wait for Gibbs' arrival.

When the men did arrive, about forty five minutes later, Tony had handed Ziva a large shopping bag. "Here you go," he said. "Do we need to wait while she gets dressed?"

Ziva had snorted with laughter at the question, and said, "No, I do not think so. She is dressed for now. These will be useful later." She gave no further information, even though Tony was looking at her quizzically.

Jordan excused herself at that point, volunteering to go get Courtney, and promising to round up some food for the new arrivals while they talked, since she had accurately guessed that it had been a long time since they had last eaten. Ducky led them into the dining room, a formal affair, tastefully decorated in yellows and Delft blues and anchored by a glorious walnut dining set, saying this would allow them to all sit around a table while they talked. Gibbs was bringing Ducky up to speed on what was going on, when Courtney entered the room, and all four men turned to look at her in stunned disbelief. Courtney stood in the doorway, swathed from neck to ankle in sheer, floating layers of fragile cotton, little bits of finely woven lace peaking out from under the bell sleeves and around the neckline, discreetly masking any décolletage, shifting uncomfortably from one tennis shoe clad foot to the other. Ziva, who had already seen the spectacle, merely shook her head. Tony was the first one to find his voice, "Um, Daisy Gatsby, I presume?" he said, his voice shaking with laughter, which made everyone else in the room break down.

Courtney managed to walk stiffly over to the table and sit down, with an admirable display of dignity, refusing to acknowledge the others' laughter, although her cheeks burned red in embarrassment. The jovial atmosphere didn't last long however, as Gibbs resumed updating Ducky, Ziva and Courtney on Director Glenn's death and Vic Merit's and Brent Langer's conditions. Courtney was wiping away the tears she hadn't been able to stop when Fornell asked her in a surprisingly gentle voice to tell them in complete detail what had happened the day before.

Courtney had begun then, recounting everything she had remembered so clearly when she'd first awoken that morning, and continuing by telling them all about the attack on the safe house, and her subsequent escape. Gibbs, Tony and Fornell stopped her periodically asking for clarification on a point, and Jordan interrupted once to bring in pots of coffee and orange juice, a tray of bagels, cream cheese and butter, scones, fresh fruit, and plates, silverware, glasses and cups and saucers. Everyone took a short break while food and drinks were distributed, and then the interview was resumed, each point recounted again, and carefully considered by all. They had just about finished when Fornell's cell phone rang.

"Yeah," he said into it as he answered. "When?" They could all hear him say. Fornell was quiet then, as he listened intently to the other person on the line. "That's all he could remember?" he asked. When that question had been answered, he said, "I'll pass that on. I should be there shortly to relieve you, at which point you will go home and get some rest." Then he closed his phone without waiting for a response.

Looking up at the others in the room he said, "Merit's awake and Morgan just got to talk to him. Seems there was a knock on the door of the surveillance room, and someone had called out, 'Exterminators.' When he opened it, intending to send them away, he'd been shoved backwards, with a sharp clip to his sternum and was momentarily stunned. Brent had drawn his weapon and aimed towards the men pouring into the room, but before he could get off a shot, one of men, using a handgun equipped with a silencer, shot him. By that time Merit had his own gun out, but before he could shoot, someone else had managed to shoot him. He took a bullet to his left shoulder, since he had been struggling to his feet when the shot hit. The thug had been aiming for his heart, but his attempt to rise had saved his life. The last thing he remembers is falling back down to the ground. He didn't get a good look at them, because they were dressed in coveralls and had some kind of masks on their faces, presumably to protect them from the fumes of the chemicals. He did remember they had gloves on their hands, and some kind of booties on their feet, which explains why we couldn't get any good trace evidence or fingerprints. Oh, and he said there were three of them."

When Courtney heard this she gasped. "I bumped into one of those guys when I was leaving to get food and coffee for the team. In the lobby. I was digging in my purse and didn't see him. I made a big deal of apologizing to him after I hit him," she said, stunned that she had been that close to one of the men who had attacked her teammates.

"Can you describe him, Courtney?" Ziva asked, excitement creeping into her voice.

"Oh yeah," Courtney answered. "I looked him right in the eye. He wasn't wearing a mask at that point. I noticed the other two men as well, although I didn't really pay that much attention to them, because I was so embarrassed about plowing into the other guy," she apologized.

"Now we know why they want to get their hands on her," Gibbs said to Fornell. "Ducky, can Ziva and Courtney use your computer? If they get on the phone with Abby, and Courtney describes this guy, Abby should be able to work up a composite picture with Courtney's help, but they'll need to be able to see what Abby is creating on her computer, to offer suggestions and corrections."

"Not a problem Jethro," Ducky said. "What do you intend to do now?" he asked, since Gibbs, Fornell, and Tony were on their feet.

"Frank Balboa and his team should be here any minute to take over protection detail. Ziva will stay here to supervise, but I want her to get some sleep, too. We're going back to D.C., Fornell will need to see Merit himself, and Morgan needs to be relieved and read into what we're doing. It will probably take Abby and McGee some time to get anything new for us to work on, so, before you even say it, DiNozzo and I will stand down for a while and get some rest," Gibbs told him.

"I'm glad to see you being so reasonable, Jethro," Ducky nodded in approval.

"Not reasonable, Ducks, just realistic. If we don't get some sleep when we can, we aren't going to be of much use when things start to break," Gibbs answered.

"Well, whatever the reason, I approve of the plan," Ducky said. "Don't worry about us here, between Ziva's watchful eyes, and Balboa's able assistance, we shall be just fine."

"That's what I'm counting on," Gibbs said, as he turned to leave.


	6. Chapter 6

"**A Friend in Need" – Chapter Six**

Tony found the drive back to the hospital considerably less tense than the drive to Ducky's. Finally they had something new to go on, something no one else knew. Even though they were aware it would take time for Abby and Courtney to come up with an image, and even longer for Abby to run it through all of their databases, hope was slowly replacing the fear and helplessness they had all been feeling. They spent most of the ride talking about the brazenness of the killers, and they were all disturbed by the level of subtlety that the abductions revealed, and the complete lack of evidence left at the various crime scenes. These were not your average criminals, they were incredibly sophisticated and well organized, and even if they weren't being aided by inside information, there was no denying their understanding of forensic investigations. Tony proposed that one, if not more of them, had a background in either the military, or some sort of law enforcement, and Fornell and Gibbs had both agreed with him.

When they got to the hospital, Tony was surprised to find Morgan sitting alone in the oppressive waiting room, with no other FBI agents to keep him company. Apparently Fornell was as well, since the first question he asked Morgan was, "Where is everyone else?"

"Estes and Wilson got called back in, and I sent Templeton home to get some sleep. She wasn't doing me, or anyone else, any good being here," he said, still angry at her behavior earlier, but unwilling to discuss it in front of two NCIS agents, even if they were friends of Fornell's.

"That's good," Fornell said. "This gives us some time alone to talk. Some things have come up that you need to be aware of, and I didn't get a chance to fully brief you earlier." Fornell proceeded to bring Morgan up to speed on everything that had been discussed during Courtney's debriefing.

Morgan listened to it all, horrified by what Courtney had gone through, but inordinately proud of the bravery she'd shown. He couldn't help thinking that Kreiger and Templeton were night and day. Courtney was always sweet, eager to please, and hesitant to put her self out there, and yet, when push came to shove, she could be as tough as any seasoned veteran. Templeton, on the other hand, sought out and reveled in the limelight, which she never graciously shared with others, but when hard, thankless work was required, Templeton always seemed to hold back. "You're sure Kreiger's going to be okay?" he asked.

"She's going to be fine," Fornell assured him. "Dr. Mallard may be an M.E. now, but he spent years as a military doctor in England." Then, changing the subject, he said, "So, now you know what's going on. We can't tell anyone that Kreiger's safe, or that she is able to identify at least one of the gunmen. NCIS is going to work on that angle. We're going to keep going on the kidnappings. They still have Melissa Carter, and it's got to be getting close to time for them to make the deal with her CEO. We need to re-establish surveillance, somewhere else, and try to make sure no one gets wind of it. Who do you think we can trust?"

"I'm not really comfortable trusting anyone right now," Morgan grumbled, "but I think Templeton's probably a safe bet. I'd also be willing to bet Wilson and Estes are okay. If there's a mole, it's more likely to be someone higher up on the food chain, since they have more access to all on-going investigations."

That made sense to all the men in the room. "We're going to need a go-between, so that you and Gibbs can swap information without anyone else picking up on it," Fornell said. Then, knowing what he was about to suggest was likely to inflame Gibbs, he added, "Templeton's probably our best choice."

"Absolutely not!" Gibbs roared. "I don't ever want to see that woman again," he hissed, as he felt Tony go rigid beside him. "Her behavior this morning was unforgivable, and if it had happened in any other situation I'd have demanded she be formally reprimanded."

Fornell sighed. He knew Gibbs would react that way, and he wished they had another option, but he honestly couldn't see one. "You're right," he told Gibbs, "and I will personally address that, but what other choice do we have, Jethro? Templeton knows all the players, so we don't have to waste any time bringing her up to speed. Plus, she's already on Morgan's team, so no one's going to question him sending her out on unexplained errands. Even if we do conscript Estes and Wilson, they have their own team leader to answer to, so we can't guarantee that something wouldn't get said to the wrong person without our knowing it," he reasoned.

Gibbs was shaking his head furiously, and was just about to object again, when Tony piped up. "He's right Boss. She may be a bitch, but I'm a big boy. Sticks and stones, you know," he added with a grin that even Gibbs wasn't able to see behind.

No one bothered to defend Templeton's honor when Tony called her a bitch, since there wasn't any denying that he was right, and they all seemed to hold their collective breaths, waiting to see what Gibbs would say. He remained quiet for over a minute, clearly waging some private battle with himself. Finally, he took a deep breath, and said, "Alright, we'll try it. But if she says…"

"I'll make sure that doesn't happen," Morgan said, stopping Gibbs before he could go further. "She's on my team, and I will make it clear to her that she embarrassed me earlier, and that I won't tolerate any further incidents."

By now Tony was embarrassed. "Just let it go," he said to Gibbs. "She only made herself look bad," he pointed out. He was uncomfortable with other people feeling like they needed to defend him, especially Gibbs. He never wanted to appear weak or needy.

"Can't do that," Fornell said to him. "She crossed a line this morning, and needs to have that pointed out. She's come close before, but never took that last step." Having correctly guessed the source of Tony's discomfort, and artfully turning the thrust of the discussion onto Templeton's need for correction, rather than Tony's need for defense, Fornell proved he wasn't the leading supervisory agent at the FBI for no reason.

Gibbs shot Fornell a grateful look, when he was sure no one else was looking, and then nodded his head, "It's settled then."

From there they moved to a more general discussion of the case, but when Morgan began to yawn discreetly, Fornell announced it was time for him to leave. Gibbs and Tony agreed to take Morgan home, so he could get some sleep while Fornell stayed behind at the hospital.

When Gibbs and DiNozzo left to take Morgan home, Fornell prepared to spend a long day waiting in Bethesda's ICU visitor's lounge. As he sat alone he couldn't help thinking about all his agents had to endure yesterday. He knew how hard Morgan had been hit by the attacks. Two of his men had been seriously wounded and his rookie had been forced to run for her life. No good team leader wants their rookie exposed to danger, ever, and they do everything in their power to protect and nurture the ones with true potential. Kreiger was one of those. After a rocky start, she had proven a fast study, and apparently Officer David had been giving her some pointers. Now that he had been made aware of their friendship it explained the rapid improvement in her fighting skills and was a testament to her determination to succeed as an agent. The girl was a sponge, and absorbed any new information she was taught. Her ratings were excellent, and her appraisals were glowing. She would go far in the Bureau, if they could keep her alive long enough to get through this current clusterfuck.

The day passed slowly for him. During the time Fornell had been there, operating on no sleep, but massive infusions of coffee, he had been visited by the Director of the FBI, who wanted an update on the condition of the two injured agents. The Director stayed long enough to spend a few minutes with Merit, then demanded an update from Fornell on the investigation. Fornell knew he couldn't keep his arrangement with NCIS a secret from the Director, so he took him to the Doctors' Lounge, and after plying him with very good coffee, brought him up to speed on exactly what was happening. He didn't go into detail, but he did make sure the Director was aware that Fornell suspected a leak at the Bureau, and that NCIS was involved. He assured the Director that the Bureau would take all the credit when the case was solved.

The Director was not pleased that another agency was investigating an attack on the FBI, but Fornell's concerns about a leak truly worried him. Fornell was rarely wrong, and if what he suspected was indeed true, then the Director had to reluctantly agree that the plan with NCIS was a good solution - as long as it stayed under the public radar. Fornell assured him that Director Shepard was fine with the FBI taking all the credit, and preferred NCIS not be publicly acknowledged as being involved in the investigation, as it would free up her people to work in peace. The Director considered being insulted, and then, being the politician he was, and knowing how Jenny operated, asked what their assistance was going to cost. Fornell told him truthfully he didn't know, but that issue would have to be addressed at a later time. The Director agreed, insisting that all details of the investigation were to be run through Fornell, and kept confidential until the case was solved, since they didn't know who might be the leak. Then, after ordering Fornell not to talk about his suspicions, or NCIS' involvement with anyone else in the Bureau - no matter who - he left.

There were other visitors throughout the day. Agents who stopped in for an update and a chance to show solidarity, a few reporters who managed to sneak by security, although Fornell wasn't sure how that could have happened, and finally, Assistant Director Christopher Webb. Webb demanded an update, but Fornell remembered what he'd promised the Director, and only gave the man a vague overview of everything that was happening on the forensics front, and the on-going search for clues regarding the three attacks. When Webb left in a huff after he realized he was being kept out of the loop, Fornell sat and prayed fervently no other visitor was going to require any kind of political finesse, since he was obviously too tired to be any good at it. That thought reminded him of Gibbs, a man who refused to ever kowtow to politics. 'I hope he's getting some sleep,' Fornell thought. 'One of us is going to need to be on their game, and it doesn't look like its going to be me.'

That was certainly Gibbs' game plan when he left the hospital late Saturday morning. After dropping Morgan off, Tony and Gibbs had headed back to Gibbs' house, both in need of a shower and some long overdue rest. They rode in silence back to Gibbs' place, both too tired to bother making small talk, and were relieved when Tony finally pulled the car into the drive.

Walking into the house, Gibbs turned to Tony and said, "Go ahead and take the first shower, while I put a pot of coffee on." Tony readily agreed.

By the time Gibbs had the coffee maker dripping merrily, he could hear the shower going in the master bedroom. Climbing wearily up the stairs, he dragged his tired body into the bedroom, undressed, and sank down onto the bed to wait for Tony to finish.

Tony had been in a hurry to get into the shower and let the water pound down on his tired and cramped muscles. It had been over a day since he'd last slept, and his body was screaming at him in outrage. Despite his assertions to the contrary, Templeton's words had bothered him a great deal. They'd reminded him of what had happened seven years ago, in that basement in Maryland, when he and Abby had been abducted. Even though the case had ended successfully, and he'd found a new friend in Abby and a new boss and lover in Gibbs, he still had the occasional nightmare about Jeffers. What the man had done to his body while he'd held him captive still haunted him, and Liz's words had brought all of that back. He found himself scrubbing and scrubbing, trying to once again remove the imaginary traces of Jeffers' hands from his skin.

Gibbs had dozed off while he sat on the bed, and it was his own light snores that woke him up. Looking around, he saw that Tony wasn't in the room, and then he realized that the shower was still going. Glancing over at the alarm clock, he saw that Tony had been in the shower for almost twenty minutes. Standing up, he walked into the bathroom, and peered through the glass door of the shower. Tony was standing still, his arms stretched out and braced against the wall, eyes closed, with his head bent down, allowing the water from the shower head to rain down on him. "Hey Tony?" Gibbs said. When he got no answer, nor any sign that Tony had even heard him, he sighed. Either Tony was so tired he'd just zoned out, or the bravado he'd shown earlier over Templeton's remarks had been just that, bravado. If he had to hazard a guess, he'd go with the second option.

Quietly sliding the door open, he climbed into the shower behind Tony. The water that splashed onto him was only lukewarm now, Tony had been in the shower long enough to use up most of the hot water reserve. "Tony," he tried again, before he reached out and ran his hand down his lover's back.

Tony jerked up, and Gibbs wasn't sure if it was because of his words or his touch. Tony turned to face him, and Gibbs saw him form a smile, although it was a half hearted effort at best. He was pretty sure Tony wasn't even aware he'd done it. "Hey," he said in surprise. "Did you miss me?"

"Thought I better get in here while there was still some hot water left," Gibbs answered him, and watched as Tony looked confused when he realized that the water was no longer steamy hot.

"Must have lost track of time," he told Gibbs vaguely, as he silently wondered just how long he'd been in the shower.

"Thought so," Gibbs answered, and sought out Tony's eyes, forcing him to look at him directly. When he was sure he had Tony's attention, he asked, "Something bothering you, Tony?"

"No, why would there be?" Tony answered, letting his eyes slide away from Gibbs'.

Gibbs didn't answer immediately. He'd seen Tony like this before, although not often. Jeffers had made Tony feel dirty, made him distrust his own body, and Templeton's remarks had clearly rekindled those feelings.

"You've never been able to lie to me, Tony. Why do you even try?" Gibbs asked fondly.

Suddenly Tony felt defensive, even though he knew Gibbs wasn't attacking him, and his posture reflected this, as his shoulders hunched, and his head dipped. He muttered his response to the floor of the tub, "I'm not lying, I'm just tired and I must have zoned out for a bit. After I get some sleep, I'll be fine."

Gibbs didn't believe a word of that explanation, but he let it go for now. Knowing Tony wasn't ready to talk yet, he picked up the bar of soap from the tray, rubbed it until his hands were covered in lather. He spun Tony around until his back was facing him again, and began to run his slickened hands up and down Tony's back. Then, with the bar of soap still in his right hand, he moved closer so he could wrap his arms around Tony, until his hands were sliding up and down Tony's chest. When he felt Tony gradually start to relax against his body, he slowed his hand movements down, letting them become more sensual, as his hands snaked up and down from slowly distending nipples to increasingly interested cock. The lather from Tony's back rubbed off onto Gibbs' chest as Tony's body began to match the rhythm of Gibbs' hands, and when he turned his head to the side, Gibbs leaned forward and caught his lips in a kiss. When Tony shuddered, Gibbs let his lips slide off Tony's mouth, and began to slowly trail down the side of his face, until his mouth fastened on the juncture between Tony's neck and jaw, where he began to gently nibble.

Letting the bar of soap drop to the floor of the tub, Gibbs wrapped his arms even tighter around Tony, until they were pressed so closely together that neither man could truly move their bodies. Then, tilting his head a little more to the side, Gibbs began to bite his way down Tony's neck, occasionally stopping to suck and press kisses on the spots his teeth had just nipped. When he felt Tony's hands reach up, and press into Gibbs' arms, trying to bring them even closer together, Gibbs slowly began to undulate his hips, allowing his cock to rub against the crack of Tony's ass. As Tony began to softly moan, Gibbs pulled away from him, just long enough to gently turn him around, so that they were facing each other again, then he reached back out and pulled Tony back into his body, allowing their cocks to rub together. Sliding his hand up, he worked his hand into Tony's wet hair and held his head steady. He took a moment just to gaze at Tony who was looking at him heatedly, his expression both soft and needy at the same time, his face flushed and his lips swollen. Then unable to resist, he pulled Tony's head to him, once again capturing his mouth in a deep kiss, slowly working his tongue in as he savored the tastes and textures he found there. As they kissed he began to grind his own erection against Tony's. When their mouths parted, Tony wrapped his arms around Gibbs' middle, then lowered his head, until he'd captured one of Gibbs' nipples with his mouth and nuzzled at it. When he felt Tony reach down to stroke his erection, and then begin to sink lower, Gibbs knew what he intended to do, and he reached down and pulled him back up.

"Not this time," he murmured, as he kissed Tony again. "This time we come together, just like this," he said when their lips had separated briefly for air. Sliding a hand down between them, Gibbs took both of their hard shafts in one hand, and pressed swollen flesh against swollen flesh. Using the water and the leaking pre-cum to lubricate his hand, he increased the pressure and began to stroke up and down, increasing the friction as he pumped, and at the same time, he sucked on Tony's lower lip. When Tony began to make the soft, repetitive mewling sounds that always signaled his approaching release, Gibbs pulled back his head one last time and wrapped his free hand under Tony's jaw, capturing his chin. When Tony looked at him, his pupils blown with lust and his eyes mere slits, Gibbs said, "You're beautiful like this. I want to watch you come undone." That was all it took. As Tony closed his eyes, he began to pulse out his release, his cream coating Gibbs' hand. Gibbs' body shuddered out its own climax in response.

When Tony was through, and the water had washed them clean, Gibbs backed him up against the wall of the shower, while encircling his body with his arms, to lend him support. As they stood there together, the heat radiating from their bodies warmer than the water that rained down on them, Gibbs kissed him again, this time slowly and gently. Reaching over with one hand, Gibbs turned off the water. "Lets go to bed," he said quietly, and he pulled back and slid open the shower door. Tony had still not spoken, but the tension Gibbs had seen when he'd first climbed into the shower was gone, and the expression on his face made it clear his silence was now a result of being completely satiated. Gibbs gently pulled him out of the shower and grabbed a towel. He ran it over Tony's sensitized body, using it to absorb most of the moisture, then grabbed another to use on his own body, before steering Tony towards the bedroom. They fell into bed together, and Gibbs reached over and encased Tony in his arms. They lay there silently, Tony's head resting on Gibbs' chest, allowing their hearts to slow, and finally, Tony started talking, his voice soft and tired.

"That crack about the collar threw me. I shouldn't have let her get to me, but I wasn't expecting to be attacked like that, especially when I barely know her. I don't care if she doesn't like me, but what the hell could I have done to her to set her off like that? Jesus, I spent one day working with her, seven years ago, and even then, it was what, a couple of hours? It almost seems like she has a grudge, but for what? I don't know her, she doesn't know me, it's not like I stole her job. She was leaving before I ever got there. What the hell is her problem?"

"Liz managed to push your buttons, and you're giving her more power than she deserves. I don't know what her problem is, but if she's going to be working with us, you have to get over this, whatever it is, now. You let her see a weakness, she's going to keep jabbing you with a stick, and the stick with the sharpest point is the Jeffers case. You beat him, Tony, all alone, with no weapons, and with Abby to protect. You still managed to come through it alive, and keep Abby safe. You did that, and no one can take that away from you. Allowing her to use anything that happened back then against you, allowing her to throw you off balance, that's not going to happen again, you got me? You're my senior agent, Tony. You represent me, and you will not let her have power over you! Is that clear?"

"Yeah, it's clear. I'll be ready for her next time, so it won't matter what she says, she won't get to me. It just took me by surprise, since there was no reason for it. Who knows? Maybe she just needed somebody to fight with, somebody to get over on. I wasn't functioning all that great after Kate, so maybe this is her way of dealing with her partners being shot, and Courtney being missing. I don't know, that makes as much sense as anything, I guess. She just took me right back there..." Tony said, his voice fading as he drifted toward sleep.

"I know, Tony, I saw it. Nobody else did, but I know you, and I saw it. She's a bitch, she always was, and that hit came out of left field. Let it go, she did herself more damage than she did you. We have to get some sleep. You'll fight better after you get some rest," Gibbs murmured, as sleep worked to claim them. Then, just before Gibbs' eyes closed for good, he felt Tony press a gentle kiss into his chest, and murmur a quiet, "Thank you."


	7. Chapter 7

"**Chapter Seven"**

Gibbs' NCIS team and Fornell's agents were not the only ones who had been busy on Saturday. An hour away from Washington, a few miles outside of Calverton - a small town in Virginia, the morning sun found Peter Phelps pacing the library floor in the spacious old plantation he was renting. The house was isolated from its neighbors by acres of rolling meadows and tree lined grounds that offered innumerable places to roam and savor nature's beauty. But Phelps wasn't interested in nature that morning. He was waiting - waiting for four other people to arrive. Waiting to hear the details on how his world had almost fallen apart last night. Waiting to make sure repairs had been made. Waiting to find out what he would need to do next. There was only one problem - Phelps wasn't good at waiting.

Peter Phelps had spent twenty seven years with the FBI. Twenty seven years, during which he'd worked hard, slowly rising through the ranks until he was a well respected team leader in the Washington offices of the Bureau. He'd never married; he hadn't had time for a personal life. His job had been his life, his team and associates, his family. That had all changed the year before last, though, when he'd been seriously wounded in what should have been a routine apprehension of a mid level drug runner. He'd been left with nothing but gross motor function in his left hand and severe reduction of his eyesight. He went from perfect vision, to needing extremely strong prescription eyeglasses, and even with that aid, had very limited night vision and frequent migraines. You couldn't be an active field agent with those challenges. Rather than force him to retire on disability, however, the Bureau had offered him a desk job, running high clearance background checks. It had not been a supervisory position, but it allowed him to utilize his training and talents, and also provided the Director and Assistant Directors with an example they could wave around to various special interest groups and Congressional Subcommittees, highlighting how the Bureau was accommodating the 'special needs' of agents who had been seriously wounded while on active duty.

Phelps had found the job demeaning and mind numbing, and he became increasingly bitter. Slowly, his old friends began to fall away, and he'd blamed it on his new position, never taking into consideration that his increasingly vocal dissatisfaction with the Bureau might have something to do with it. Finally, finding the pay too little to compensate him for the humiliation he felt over his new position, he'd taken the early retirement package they had offered him right after his accident, and accepted a much more highly paid job in the private sector, working corporate security. The firm that hired him had initially been pleased to acquire an employee who had such extensive experience in federal law enforcement. However, his superior attitude made for a poor work environment for his co-workers, and he was let go within six months of being hired. That had left Phelps living only on the disability checks he received from the FBI, and with far too much time on his hands.

Eventually, Phelps had come up with a scheme for making the kind of money he felt he was owed after working for years to keep his country safe, sacrificing the use of his left hand and the better part of his eyesight in the process. The plan was actually based on an idle thought he'd had one day while completing one of the many background checks he'd been assigned, right before he'd left the Bureau. His job had been to check out not the actual person of interest, but all those around them: parents, children, spouses, lovers, and best friends, anyone who could be used to coerce the person of interest into betraying their country. As Peter spent more time on this assignment, he started noticing who was making a lot of money, who was in a position of power, and who made contributions to their employers that were highly valued. On that particular day he'd been struck by a strange notion. These people would make perfect targets for kidnapping, and if he were the one doing it, he wouldn't bother asking their families for ransom. That wasn't where the real money was – no - he would ask for ransom from the employers. He hadn't thought much more about the idea, though, and soon he had left the Bureau to take the other job. But, eight months later, once again unemployed, he'd made an amazing discovery while tooling around on the internet one day.

Out of curiosity, Phelps had attempted to use his old ID code to get into the FBI databases. Imagine his surprise when it worked! For some reason, probably due to the serious under-manning of the support staff areas at the Bureau, no one had bothered to deactivate his codes when he'd 'retired.' He could still access the files he had been working on before he left, and newer files that were being created all the time, since no one had bothered to change any of the access codes. Then he remembered that strange idea he'd had one day while still working there, and he realize this gave him the perfect way of targeting victims, if he ever actually wanted to realize his plan.

He stopped his pacing and reminiscences when he heard the sound of a car pulling into the long, circular drive in front to the mansion. Looking at his watch, he saw it was 10:15 A.M. Whoever had arrived was early. He suspected he knew who it would be, and peering out the window he saw that he'd been right. Climbing out of a jazzy little black Mercedes sports car was Sylvia Cooper, her long blonde hair tied back so that the wind from the sunroof didn't tangle it beyond all repair. Peter stood and admired her. She was attractive in an understated way, and rarely dressed to show off her womanly curves and long shapely legs, and her intelligence shown through on her beautiful face, making it that much more engaging. At thirty three, Sylvia was in her prime.

Sylvia had been the first person Peter had recruited when he'd committed himself to actually trying the kidnapping scheme. He had met her while he was working corporate security. She ran her own consulting firm, and many private security firms brought her in to evaluate the effectiveness of the systems they were installing. Peter had liked her right away. She really knew her stuff; bachelor's and master's degrees in Computer Sciences having ensured that, and he respected her for her knowledge. Sylvia had come from money, but her family lost the majority of their wealth in a Ponzi scam, and she felt cheated – to which Peter could certainly relate. Ultimately, it was that bitterness he'd tapped into when he broached the subject, offering it as a way for her to get back some of her family's lost money from these faceless companies that made a habit of sucking people dry.

Moving to the door, he let the young woman in, pressing a kiss to her left cheek. "Good morning Sylvia. I hope you got a little rest," he greeted her.

"Hello Peter. I'm not surprised to see I'm the first here. I suspect everyone is having a hard time getting started today," she answered. "How's our guest today?" she asked.

"Getting restless," his answered. "I peeked in on her earlier, just after Garrison had given her breakfast, and she was clearly agitated. I hope yesterday's events haven't made it impossible for us to conclude our business with her employer and get her home. I would hate to have to kill a woman."

"I think it'll be okay. Jillian and I spent hours pouring over the files David pulled from the surveillance room yesterday, and it doesn't look as if the FBI had any actual contact with her CEO, so if nothing changes, we should be okay," Sylvia responded, referencing two of the other people Peter was expecting to arrive.

Jillian Marshall worked for Sylvia at her consulting firm, and that was how she'd gotten involved in the kidnapping syndicate. Sylvia had hired her for the firm because of her background – twenty five years in the Marine Corps, where she'd been trained in covert ops and extractions in hostile environments, as well as computer investigation. She was tough as nails, but lacked the polish and political savvy that would have allowed her to advance past the rank of Captain, so when her twenty five years were up, and she could retire with full military benefits, she'd cut and run, knowing she could find work in any number of security related fields. Like Sylvia and Peter, she was single. For twenty five years her job had been her whole world. Not that she'd led a monastic life; she'd had plenty of short term relationships, and one or two that she would even have qualified as serious. One of which was still going on.

For the past ten years she'd been involved on and off, with a man named David Barker. David was different from the others she dated, who tended to be military men. Although he had once been in the Marines, he didn't carry himself with the same rigidity she associated with the military. David was suave and trendy, and when she first met him, he'd told her he was a consultant for various companies, and hadn't elaborated. Over time she'd come to realize he wasn't that at all, rather, he supported himself by gun running, extortion, and high end cons, but by that time she was infatuated, and since he actively worked at staying off law enforcement's radar, and wasn't likely to soon star on a 'Most Wanted' poster, she'd turned a blind eye. When Sylvia had recruited her for the kidnapping scheme, it was Jillian who had suggested that David should be included, and after meeting him, Sylvia had agreed. There was no telling when a little muscle would be needed, and David was in the unique position to supply that. Not only was he not above getting his own hands dirty, but he also had four men who worked with him regularly as hired muscle. They would be able to pay these men a minimal weekly salary and make use of their services, without ever having to divulge all of the details of the operation. It had been a win-win for everybody.

"I certainly hope so," Peter said to Sylvia. Then, before he could get the door shut, he saw another car pull in. "Speak of the devils, here come Jillian and David. I thought we'd meet in the kitchen. There's that large table and everyone can help themselves to drinks and food as they see fit."

"Sounds good. All I ask is that we have a full pot of coffee at all times. I'm beat; it was a long night," Sylvia agreed.

"There's some already brewed. Go on in and help yourself while I wait for the newest arrivals," Peter told her.

Jillian and David hurried when they say Peter standing in the doorway. "We're not late, are we?" Jillian asked as they approached the door.

"No, you're on time. Sylvia just arrived, and Richard isn't here yet," Peter assured her. "Good morning David," he then said to the man walking behind her, his voice less warm than it had been when he'd addressed Jillian. He was angry with the other man, as he blamed him for the events of yesterday that had resulted in none of them enjoying a decent night's sleep, but was not willing to fully show his irritation until he'd heard the whole story.

"Peter," David greeted him, as he watched the man warily. David Barker didn't really trust Peter. He'd been a criminal too many years to be completely comfortable teaming up with an ex-FBI agent, even if the whole scheme had been his idea. Even though they now had a common goal, they just didn't see the world the same way. He knew Peter would be upset over the way yesterday had turned out, and he'd spent the drive out to Calverton dreading the impending meeting. All he could hope was that Peter would be too focused on making sure they collected the ransom for Melissa Carter to let yesterday be a deal breaker.

"Sylvia's back in the kitchen. Why don't you both go and get yourselves something to eat while I wait here for Richard. He shouldn't be much longer," Peter suggested, eager to have just a bit more time alone before they had to start analyzing the situation. He stood aside and watched the couple as they meandered through the formal living room towards the kitchen. Privately he thought that Jillian was a fool to let herself get involved with that man, but that was her business, not his, he reminded himself.

He was again just about to close the door, when he saw the car he'd been waiting for arrive. 'I'm beginning to feel like a doorman,' he told himself as he waited for the last of his partners. The dark sedan pulled in next to Sylvia's Mercedes, and Peter watched as Richard DeAngelo climbed out. He could barely hide his grin when he watched the man carefully lock his car. 'Once a cop, always a cop,' he thought to himself, 'As if anyone was going to get into the car, out here, miles from the next nearest house, even farther than that from an actual town.' That was one of the main reasons he'd picked this house, after all, when he'd started looking for rental property to use as their home base. That, and the fact that the utilities were paid by the rental property company, so there would be no extraneous records of their residency.

Peter had known Richard for many years, due to his position as Washington Metro's FBI Liaison. They had shared drinks and dinners on occasion over the years, and worked well together. Peter learned about Richard's personal life, and his wife's almost pathological hatred for his dedication to his job. When her frustration with his job had destroyed their marriage, Peter had been there. Richard's wife wanted a husband who was actually home at a normal hour every night, and who wasn't called into work at all hours of the day and night, with no regard for family events, such as birthday parties and anniversaries. She wanted a husband who was more than passingly familiar with fatherhood, and could actually make and keep a promise to attend a child's school play, or baseball game. After fifteen years of disappointment, she had finally had enough and filed for divorce. Peter had quietly supported Richard through his marital woes, and his subsequent frustration at his lack of access to his children, and their less than enthusiastic responses in the time he actually did get with them. When Peter's mission had literally blown up in his face, Richard had been one of the few people who stood by him, and worked to maintain their friendship. So, when Peter had started to put his new 'team' together, he'd immediately thought of Richard.

In the end, it had been surprisingly easy to convince DeAngelo to join up. Peter's plan was to kidnap ten executives and hold each of them for a ransom of five million dollars. Dividing that up equally amongst five partners would give each person ten million dollars. All Peter had had to do was point out to Richard the kind of freedom that money would buy him. Richard had seen it as a way to reclaim his family. He'd retire, buy some land somewhere, convince his wife to take him back, then they could take their children and move out of the city and start all over again, free from the pressures of a job that demanded twenty four hour a day availability. It didn't matter if the plan wasn't realistic - it was the best opportunity Richard thought he'd get. So he'd signed on the imaginary dotted line, and agreed to lend his extensive knowledge and access to both the Metro Police's and FBI's computer systems, files, and facilities to the mission.

Richard was shaking his head as he climbed the three steps that took him up to the wide front porch that the mansion's front door opened on to. "Well, things certainly got out of control, didn't they?" he said to Peter, when he was close enough to be heard. "Probably what we deserve for bringing a thug like Barker into this."

"We don't know that this was all Barker's fault," Peter said. "After all, he was sent in to disrupt the FBI's surveillance of the Nabscot corporate offices," he reminded his friend. This was why he'd wanted to be alone when Richard arrived. He'd suspected the police captain would be more than a little agitated, and he hoped to calm him down before the meeting began.

"Disrupt, yes - shoot two federal agents, and then later gun down another agent and an Assistant Director of the FBI in broad daylight – no!" Richard snapped. "And let's not forget about the other three dead agents at the safe house and the missing girl."

"We need to hear the whole story, Richard. We were all so busy working damage control yesterday that no one has a complete picture of what went down. Get a hold of yourself and then we'll go in. Everyone's gathered in the kitchen, so we can get started as soon as you're ready," Peter soothed. There was no way he was going to let this devolve into finger pointing and hurled accusations. Not when they'd gotten this far already. He just needed to hold them together long enough to successfully conclude the transaction with Carter's employer, and move on to the last four targets. Then they could take their money and never have to see one another again.

"Let's get it over with," DeAngelo said, as he brushed past Peter and marched towards the kitchen.

Peter hurried along behind Richard, not willing to let Barker and DeAngelo be in a room alone together without him there to serve as a buffer. When they got to the kitchen, they found the other three conspirators sitting at the table, nursing cups of coffee and nibbling on pastries from the tray Peter had set in the middle of the table. Peter didn't allow anyone else to say anything. He began speaking the minute he cleared the threshold. "Okay, now that Richard's here, we can get started. I'm going to start by summarizing what we already know – just so we have a clear framework. Okay?" he asked, and looked around, pleased to find four heads nodding in agreement.

"We all know that on late Thursday afternoon, when Sylvia was running a sweep on the Nabscot CEO's office to determine how close he was to paying the ransom, she picked up on some other electronic surveillance, which she backtracked to an office on the tenth floor of the next building. Does anyone have anything they want to comment on here?" he asked. Four heads shook in response.

"Okay, so then Richard did some snooping and discovered that the Bureau was running some kind of operation in the area, although no one he talked to had much information on it. Sylvia eventually managed to get mike feed on the office and we learned it was indeed the FBI, but that they seemed to be running some kind of independent surveillance, without the knowledge of anyone at Nabscot. Sylvia, do you want to add anything?" he asked.

"I've got more information on that, but I'll wait until you're done summarizing," she said.

"That's fine," Peter said. "So, we determined that it would be possible to get into the building the FBI was using by disguising David and his men as exterminators. To that end, Sylvia hacked into the management company's computers and downloaded the appropriate work orders, while Jillian and David raided the offices of the pest control business they usually used to get coveralls and equipment, while two of David's men – was it Joe White and Marty Franklin?" he asked, looking at David for confirmation. When David rolled his eyes and nodded, Peter continued, "Okay, White and Franklin arranged to have logos made for the van that would identify them as employees of the extermination company. The plan was for David and three of his men to go in on Friday afternoon, leaving Garrison in the van as lookout, get past security, go up to the tenth floor, restrain anyone in the surveillance room, and get the hard drives from any computers in the room and all the paperwork they could find, so we would know exactly what they were up to, and put a stop to the operation."

"Is this really necessary?" Barker snapped. "We all know what the plan was."

"It never hurts to review," Peter said, rather fastidiously. "We can't talk about what went wrong if we aren't clear on what was supposed to happen."

"Well, we're clear now, right?" Barker asked, looking around the table at the others. When no one seemed to disagree, he said, "Why don't you let me tell you what _did_ happen?"

"Let's let Sylvia start, why don't we?" Peter suggested, hoping Barker would cool off before they got to him. "Just take us through the break in on the surveillance site for now," he instructed her.

"Well, you've already covered most of it," she said. "Once the operation started, Jillian and I didn't have a lot to do. The only thing you left out really, was that Jillian and I spent most of Friday morning perfecting a virus we could introduce into the computer system that runs the security cameras for the office building the FBI was using. Once we set the bug loose, it deactivated all the security cameras on the inside and outside of the building for one half hour. Barker had a stop watch so he could keep track of the time. That way there wouldn't be any visual record of them being there. That part of the plan worked perfectly," she said, rather smugly.

"Okay David, tell us where things went wrong," Peter said.

"It started when we got into the lobby," Barker said. "This girl was coming out of the elevator, and she was digging in her purse, not looking where she was going. She rammed right into me, knocking us both off balance. When I reached over to stop her from falling, I brushed up against her side and felt a gun, so I knew she must be one of the feds. Anyway, the stupid bitch made a big deal of apologizing, and once we got loose from her, we headed to the elevators."

"So why didn't you abort right then?" Richard demanded from across the table.

"Because it wasn't supposed to be that big a fucking deal," Barker snapped back at him. He was tired and that made his temper, which was never very good, even more hair triggered. "Put on the face masks and gloves, get in, tie up anyone in the room, take out the computers, grab the papers and run. Nothing to warrant an all out manhunt. Figured they'd be so busy scrambling to figure out why they'd been hit that it would take them a few days to find their own asses and get around to realizing she'd seen anything."

"That was your first mistake," Richard muttered under his breath.

David just ignored him. "Anyway, we got up to the tenth floor and they opened the door just like we planned. Then it all went to hell. I knocked down the agent who answered the door, but before we could get to the other one, he'd drawn a gun and Steve Holmes had to shoot him before he could shoot me. Then the other one, the one on the ground, pulled his gun and started to get up, and Marty put a round in him. No one planned for that to happen. Since we were in there, we went ahead and got the hard drives and shoved them and all the paperwork we could find in the empty spray canisters, destroyed all the surveillance equipment we could see, and got the hell out of there with eight minutes to spare," he finished with a quick glare at DeAngelo.

"And then?" Peter prompted.

"And then I had a fucking problem, didn't I?" David hissed. "Two FBI agents had just been shot, I wasn't even sure if they were dead or not, and some stupid little bitch could identify me."

"That's enough," Peter warned, tired of David's profanity and hostility. "Just tell us about the Hummer attack, which was featured on the nightly news last night!"

"When we got the van back to the garage we were stashing it in, we pulled the fake insignia, swapped the license plates and got out of the coveralls. I called Jillian to tell her what had happened. She told me to look through the paperwork and see if I could find anything that might identify who the agents assigned to the case were. So we did that, and ended up finding a sheet with the names, badge numbers and phone numbers of five people. I called Jillian back and gave her that info, and she and Sylvia ran a trace on their phones, and told me to come on back to Sylvia's consulting firm. I sent my guys away and arranged to meet them in two hours at another garage, and then I drove the van to where we usually keep it, and got my own car. While I was doing that, Sylvia and Jillian were able to figure out who the two agents were that we hit. When I got to Sylvia's you were there," he said to Peter, "so you know what happened."

"Richard doesn't David," Peter said, trying very hard not to lose his patience. "Go ahead and tell him."

"When I got to Sylvia's, Peter debriefed me, and when he and Jillian heard about the agent in the lobby they freaked," David told Richard. "They said she'd been trained to remember faces and details and Peter said I had to take her out right away. Peter had me call my guys back, and told me to go get the Hummer, while Sylvia ran a trace on the girl's phone. The plan was they'd let me know when she was on the move, and we'd take her out before she had a chance to give anyone a good description of me. So my crew met me at the garage, we put on black coveralls, gloves, and face masks, got clean plates for the Hummer, and headed towards the girl's phone signal. Once she was on the move, Sylvia tracked her, and we set ourselves up to intercept. And everyone knows the rest. When Sylvia said the signal was almost by us, we saw an SUV with government plates and knew that had to be it. We circled around, got in front of them, and then cut them off. My guys opened up the back of the Hummer, and shot the hell out of that SUV with AK-47's. No one in that SUV should have been able to walk away from it."

"But they did, didn't they?" Richard said hotly.

"That is not my fault," David hissed. "That SUV looked like swiss cheese."

"Why didn't you get out and make sure you'd got her?" Richard wanted to know.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because we were in the middle of fucking downtown D.C. and I could hear the cop cars coming before they'd even got done shooting?" David said.

"Take it easy," Peter told David, and he shot DeAngelo a look, letting him know he had to back off. "Just go on."

"There isn't all that much more to tell," David said. "It was hours before we had another crack at her, since they took her to the Hoover building straight from the SUV attack site, and no one's getting in there. But Jillian kept the trace running. Finally they moved her, we followed, figured out it was a safe house, and Sylvia and Jillian did their computer magic," he said.

Sylvia looked over at Richard and elaborated, "I was able to knock out their cameras and alarm system with that new program I told you about. It's a mistake to run both off the same computer," she said with a self satisfied smile.

"We got in there, ended up killing the three agents guarding her, but somehow she got away," David said.

"And we lost the trace right after that," Sylvia said. "I guess whoever picked her up was smarter than she was, and had her disable the phone. We've been tracking her bank accounts and credit cards all night, but there hasn't been any movement on them. Guess the feds have her locked down pretty tight."

"They don't have her," Richard said.

"What?" Peter asked. "What do you mean?"

"They think we have her," Richard said, and they all looked at each other in confusion.

"I think its your turn Richard," Peter said, when he got over the shock. "How did you learn this?"

"I did just what you and I discussed. I got myself over to Bethesda as soon as I could, after I spent hours listening to the Chief rant about the holier than thou attitudes of the FBI. When I got there, the visitors' lounge with crammed with agents. The team leader - a guy named Ed Morgan was there, a couple of other lower level agents, Tobias Fornell and Jethro Gibbs from NCIS and his second…."

"Did you say, Gibbs?" Peter interrupted him.

"Yes, Gibbs," DeAngelo confirmed. "Why?"

"That isn't good. What was he doing there?" Peter wanted to know.

"One of the guys shot at the surveillance site, Langer, had worked for him. I think he was there checking up on him."

"Does he know about the kidnapping?" Peter asked.

"I don't know, that wasn't mentioned at all," DeAngelo said, confused by why this was such a big deal.

Peter could see this, and attempted to clarify. "Gibbs is like a dog with a bone. The things that set him off the fastest are crimes against children and crimes against wives of military personnel. He learns about Carter, there won't be any holding him back. I knew these two agents, Liz Templeton and Viv Blackadder who used to work under him, and they had horror stories. He's got a whole set of rules his agents have to learn and follow, and once, on a joint operation, I saw him physically assault his second in command."

"Liz Templeton was there last night," DeAngelo told Peter, "and so was his second, a guy called Tony DiNozzo. I don't think he's going to be assaulting that one. He and Templeton got into it, and Templeton spewed venom at the guy, and Gibbs about killed her. If looks could kill, Templeton would be dead already, no bullets necessary," he joked, but Peter didn't laugh. Instead, he just looked thoughtful.

"What's the condition of the wounded agents?" Peter asked.

"Well, I'm sure you already know Glenn died. Its been on every TV and radio station all morning," DeAngelo said. "Victor Merit, the one that got it in the shoulder, made it through surgery fine, and the doctors said he'd make a full recovery. The other one, Brent Langer, is in bad shape. His lungs got damaged, and he's developed an infection. They don't know if he's going to make it. He's the one that worked for Gibbs. I could tell he took it hard because DiNozzo spent some time consoling him, just before they left."

"Gibbs is going to be a bigger problem than the FBI," Peter scowled.

"He's NCIS," David scoffed. "Almost no one's ever heard of them. How big a problem can he possibly be? Besides, as long as he doesn't find out about Carter, he doesn't have any jurisdiction."

"That's just it," Peter said. "Gibbs doesn't need jurisdiction. He does whatever he pleases. He's going to go ape shit when Langer dies, and by the way, Langer and Merit need to die. They may not have seen your faces, but we can't take that chance. We'll have to figure out how to deal with that later. This DiNozzo may be our answer with Gibbs. If they're as close as you think, Richard, maybe we can use DiNozzo for leverage with Gibbs. We'll have to watch Gibbs, and see if that's going to be necessary. One last thing, explain why they think we have the girl. Did Fornell say something about that?"

"No, they never mentioned her. But after they left, I went and sat with Morgan, and I asked him if they'd found the girl. He said they'd called off the search for her because they hadn't found any sign of her. Said Fornell had decided that the attackers on the safe house must have taken her. So I don't know what that means, or where she is," DeAngelo said, frowning, not liking the unexplained mystery.

Peter didn't like it either, it just smelled wrong to him. "Well, now we all have a better picture of what's going on. Now we need to decide what needs to happen next."

They determined that since the papers they'd confiscated had told them that the FBI had not had any contact with the CEO of Nabscot, and that the FBI had only learned about her disappearance through back channels, which is why they had been running a covert surveillance operation, hoping for information or at least confirmation of a kidnapping, that they could proceed as planned. The rest of the procedure they had in place for collecting the ransom would be carried out as if no disruption in their routine had taken place. The money was be wired to the off-shore account then transferred to their Swiss account, after it had been passed through several banks along the way, all set up by Sylvia, and virtually untraceable. Carter would be delivered to her home, unconscious, just as the others had been, and left with a note reminding her that her life will be forfeited if she notifies any authorities of where she had been, or what happened during her absence. The note would say she was to contact her CEO immediately upon awakening, and he would explain everything to her.

They then refocused on the troublesome FBI agents. They all agreed that DeAngelo couldn't be the one to do any of the killing, since people would note his presence way too readily. Peter decreed that he was far too recognizable a figure to both FBI and DC Metro cops, so he couldn't even be present at the hospital when any of the killing took place. Everyone thought his time would best be spent focusing on finding Kreiger. After discussing it, DeAngelo suggested he offer the assistance of DC Metro to the FBI in finding Kreiger and her captors, and see how the offer was received. That might give them some idea on how to proceed. Jillian and Sylvia were to keep monitoring Kreiger's bank accounts and credit cards, but Peter wasn't hopeful. 'She's a law enforcement officer, and she knows that 'follow the money' is one of the cardinal rules of tracking someone, so she's likely to avoid using any and all of her credit cards and she would also stay away from her bank, but then how is she accessing funds, and WHERE THE HELL IS SHE???' he thought.

David was assigned the task of developing a plan for the elimination of Merit and Langer, and the additional responsibility of watching Gibbs and his team. Peter made it clear he wanted to know if it looked like Gibbs was even mildly interested in the FBI's operation.

Finally, with nothing more to discuss, Peter ended the meeting and sent everyone on their way, demanding he be given hourly reports on their progress.


	8. Chapter 8

"**Chapter Eight"**

Saturday seemed to drag by for everyone involved in the case. Phelps and his gang had their meeting and then parted ways to see to their individual assignments. Abby and McGee frantically searched for answers using Abby's computers, deep in the bowels of NCIS. The occupants of Ducky's home in Reston spent fitful hours fretting about a situation they had no control over, and Tobias continued his long vigil at the hospital, while Morgan, Tony and Gibbs slept the afternoon away.

Melissa Carter sat in her beautifully appointed prison, wondering if she would ever see her husband or friends again. She'd been here nine long days now, her only contact with the rest of humanity consisting of the three daily visits paid to her by a ski masked man. With each trip he'd deposit a food tray, removing the last one as he left. He would appear with no warning, wearing a black jumpsuit and purple latex gloves, his body so carefully concealed that she didn't even have a hint as to his skin color. She didn't even know what his voice sounded like, since he always wore a voice synthesizer. When she'd first gotten there she'd been relieved by his efforts at concealment, telling herself that if he was being so careful to hide his identify from her, then he didn't intend to kill her - she would get out of this, whatever this was, alive. At least that's what she initially thought. But now, nine days later, she was beginning to have her doubts.

Melissa wanted her husband. They'd met while still in high school and dated all through college. They'd married soon after graduation, and he had enlisted in the Marines, while she headed off to college. That was twenty five years ago. Jeff, her husband, had served two tours in the Service before leaving, although he'd stayed in the Marine Corps Reserves. For years that hadn't entailed much more than the occasional weekend and once a year month long retreats, allowing him to move up in rank (he was currently a Colonel) both in the Reserves and at his job, where he was an executive for a major national trucking firm, a job that had allowed him to utilize the logistical training he'd received while in the Corps. Then the Iraqi War had happened, and he'd been called up. Now he was in Afghanistan. Melissa had missed him, but they'd stayed in contact via phone and email.

They'd wanted children, but that had never happened, so they'd clung to each other, growing closer than many couples. They weren't just lovers, they were each other's best friend. Melissa wondered if he was worried about her yet. Did he realize she was missing, or had the kidnappers found some way to dispel his worries? She wouldn't be surprised if they'd managed to do that, they had certainly done their research on her. As a matter of fact, they seemed to know so much about her, it was almost as scary as the actual abduction had been.

She'd gone to bed late one night, two Wednesdays ago, and when she'd awakened, she'd found herself in a nicely appointed room that she had never seen before. Fortunately there was an attached bathroom, so after using the facilities, she tried the door leading into the room, only to find it locked. Looking around she saw that there were no windows. She pounded on the door for the next fifteen minutes, screaming for someone to let her out, and had almost falling over when the door opened, and the disguised man had appeared for the first time.

He' been incredibly polite when he addressed her in his synthesized voice, and patiently explained to her that she'd been kidnapped, but that she would be fine as long as she cooperated. Her company would be paying the ransom, after which she would be released. Melissa had stood mute, and was still trying to absorb that information, when he asked her very calmly what she would like to have for breakfast. She hadn't been able to answer, and when, after waiting futilely for her response, the man had shrugged and said, "I'll just bring you your usual today, okay? One toasted multi-grain bagel with peanut butter and sliced bananas, coffee and a small glass of orange juice coming up." After naming her normal breakfast of choice with amazing accuracy, he then turned and left.

The unpleasant surprises had just kept piling up. When she'd explored the room while he was gone, she'd discovered the closet and dresser drawers filled with sweat suits, jeans, sweaters, pajamas, bras and panties, all in her size. As a matter of fact, the only kind of apparel she found no trace of was shoes. But that didn't mean they didn't know her shoe size, because there were slippers – terry cloth, velveteen, and satin ballet styled slip-ons. The bathroom was stocked with her favorite beauty products, and the medicine cabinet even contained her brand of toothpaste, dental floss, and mouthwash. There was a cafe style table, where apparently she was to take her meals. There was a tray on the table upon which were placed bottles of the vitamins she took daily. The depth of research done on her personal life, proven by these little touches, shook her badly.

That had been nine days ago. By now they had established a routine. The man would bring her the food, inquire after her health, ask if there was anything else she needed, then leave. She would thumb through the books she'd found in the room – all by her favorite authors, or surf the channels on the wide screen TV mounted on the far wall, near a very comfortable seating area, and try not to cry.

Many miles away, in Reston, VA, Courtney and Ziva were experiencing their own frustrations. Having to put on the dress Mrs. Mallard had provided her with had only been the beginning of what would prove to be a day of irritations for Courtney. After enduring the humiliation of having to be debriefed while wearing the ridiculous outfit, things had started to look up when she and Ziva had established a visual link with Abby, using Ducky's computer. They'd worked together for over an hour, Courtney describing the attacker's features, Abby madly typing away on her computer, Courtney looking at the results and offering suggestions, and Abby encouraging her with frequent outbursts of "You're doing great!" or "It's so cool how well you remember things!" or her personal favorite, "You're a rock star!" Finally, Abby managed to produce a likeness that Courtney approved, and Abby had rushed off to start running it through the innumerable databases available to her, telling Courtney it would probably take several hours before they could hope for a hit, since recognition programs were slow, and that her baby (Courtney assumed she was referring to her computer) had to sift through a plethora of data. Then they'd moved on to his henchmen. That was when all the positive energy had come to a screeching halt.

Although Courtney could remember general information about the men, such as their height, approximate weight, body type, and hair color, she couldn't seem to get a handle on the particulars of their features. She and Abby worked on it for over two hours, until Abby declared that the rather generic images she had created were about as good as it was going to get. Courtney had insisted they keep trying, saying she'd work harder to remember, but Ziva, who'd come in to the room towards then end, had disagreed.

"It will not get any better Courtney," she said. "You have been working on it for over two hours now."

"I can do this, Ziva," Courtney had argued. "I'm remembering more details all the time."

"No Courtney. You are not. You are exhausted and not thinking clearly. You must stop now, as you are keeping Abby from doing research on the case," she said, not to be cruel, but knowing that Courtney's sense of responsibility would make her stop, and then she could talk her young friend into taking a nap.

Ziva's words served to persuade Courtney to stop for a while, and Abby had told her to get some rest, promising she would call when they got a hit, and telling the FBI agent that they could try to work on the other men again later. Courtney had allowed Ziva to steer her to her room, where Ducky and Dr. Hampton had joined them, wanting to take a look at Courtney's shoulder. She'd changed back into the nightgown, so they'd have better access to the shoulder, and Ducky had been amused at the look of relief on her face, when she'd handed him back his mother's dress, politely telling him how much she had appreciated it. While the doctors were examining Courtney, Ziva had excused herself to go check in with Balboa and his team.

After determining that the wound was beginning to heal, Dr. Hampton applied more antibiotic cream, and applied a fresh dressing. Ducky gave Courtney another round of antibiotics and pain killers, to ensure that she slept. When she had settled down under the covers, Ducky and Jordan had stepped out into the hallway, softly closing the door behind them. Reaching out, Ducky had placed his hand fondly on Jordan's hip. "Well, this is certainly different from how I envisioned this weekend, my dear," he said with a small smile.

As Jordan leaned her body into his, she said "Its okay, Donald. At least you know how to keep a girl entertained." As he pulled her in a little closer, she pressed a warm kiss to his cheek.

After checking in with Balboa one more time and assuring herself that all was well, Ziva retired to the bedroom Ducky had provided her with, having chosen that one because it abutted the room Courtney was using. Closing the door, Ziva had wearily crossed to the dresser where she'd stored the overnight bag she'd retrieved from her car earlier, and pulled out fresh clothing, and a small bag filled with personal hygiene products. Then, stripping herself of her various weapons and shedding her rumpled clothes, she headed into the bathroom that was communally connected to both Courtney's and her bedrooms. Turning on the shower to as hot as it would go, Ziva stepped in and allowed the water to relax her, before she turned to the more mundane tasks of washing her hair and body. When she was done, and had toweled off and dressed, she ran a comb through her wet hair and brushed her teeth. Her simple ministrations complete, she eased the door open that led to Courtney's room and peeked in. Courtney lay in the bed, sound asleep. Ziva smiled when she saw how peaceful and content the sleeping woman looked, and as a small smile played across her lips, she said softly, "What works for the gander, is good for the goose." She closed the door, crossed through the bathroom, and made her way to her own bed, lay down, and fell fast asleep. The non-stop tension she had felt when she had sole responsibility for Courtney's safety, along with everyone else in the house, had taken its toll on her. She was already tired when this had all begun, and had only slept for about six hours the day before, so now that Balboa's people were on guard, and she knew she could actually relax, she fell into a deep, restorative sleep

While Ziva slept, Abby and McGee were hard at work back at NCIS Headquarters. They had been going non-stop since Gibbs, Tony and Fornell had left, early that morning. Abby's first chore of the morning had been making a copy of Fornell's hard drive, so that she could secure the original in the safe in her office. She didn't want to take the chance of anything happening to it, or of having the wrong person see it. She was well aware of the faith he was placing in her by allowing her access to the information contained on it, and she fully intended to safeguard it.

While she was occupied doing that, McGee had hacked into DC Metro's system with ease and got busy scanning through all the reports from yesterday, using Agent Courtney Kreiger as his search term, since she had been present at all three of the events involving the FBI. When he'd downloaded everything he could find in Metro's system, McGee used Fornell's access codes to download everything the FBI mainframe had on the cases, paying special attention to all the forensic reports. After looking them over, he'd been discouraged to discover that Fornell had been right. The attackers had been very careful, and the only thing that would be of any use was the pictures of each crime scene. There had been bullets retrieved from the SUV, as well as from the agents who had been shot, but when the FBI forensics lab had run it through their system they hadn't gotten any hits, which meant the guns were virgins. At least they were now in the system, and if they were used again, they'd be matched immediately.

The pictures from the SUV attack were unbelievable, and he called Abby over to take a look. It was astounding that anyone had survived that attack, and they figured that with that much firepower, a lot of people must have been taking pictures of the excitement, if they weren't busy diving for cover. They also discussed the fact that the attack had occurred on a major thoroughfare, so there must have been traffic cams that they could hack to follow the SUV. That was the next order of business.

They decide that Abby would start working on the traffic cams around the building where the initial attack occurred, using the timeline given by Courtney during her debriefing. They knew everything started around 1300 on Friday, when Courtney left to get lunch, so starting around 1230, Abby started to download footage from all the cameras in a one mile radius. It was a very systematic search grid, and it was going to take her hours to check all the cameras for any vehicles approaching the building in question. They knew these guys were supposedly carrying heavy tanks, so they reasoned that they wouldn't have walked far, so the vehicle had to be nearby. Even if the building's cameras were taken off-line, other buildings adjacent to it, and across from it, both front and back had working cameras, so there was going to be a lot of footage to work through. Before she could get too far, Abby got called away from her search to work with Courtney on developing composite pictures of the men she'd seen in the lobby, which left McGee to continue scanning security cameras and traffic cams for any sign of the kidnappers/murders.

He decided to start with the second scene, the SUV attack. He began with all of the buildings in the vicinity, and after accessing each building's cameras, had then pieced together the entire scene, from the beginning of the attack to the end. He then followed the Hummer for as long as he could, using the traffic cams, and when they were no longer effective, since the Hummer moved off a main thoroughfare onto side streets, he had to resort to using individual building cameras to try to follow it. Finally, it just disappeared completely, and he couldn't find any sign of it on any of the nearby cameras. He was completely baffled. Something as big as a Hummer couldn't just disappear.

The Hummer's vanishing act so frustrated McGee that he decided he needed to take a break from traffic and security cams. McGee decided to focus on the kidnappings for a while. Thanks to the FBI's files, he now had the name of the kidnapping victim who had been murdered when his CEO had refused to pay the ransom - Morris Nussbaum, as well as the current victim – Melissa Carter. Since Melissa Carter was a Marine wife, McGee decided to start with her.

The FBI had already compiled a fair amount of background information on her that discussed her educational background, her marriage, and her employment record. The information included glowing letters of recommendation, which clearly detailed all of the accomplishments she had achieved in her career, and lauded her dedication and superior skills in her chosen profession. Since this gave him a fairly good overview of Melissa Carter, he decided to move on to her husband, knowing he could access his information more easily than the FBI through the NCIS system, since the man was a Marine.

McGee discovered that with every promotion Jeffrey Carter had received, the Corps had run a new background check, and of course, that included information on his wife. The Marine Corps file provided basic information on both Carters, and once he had been recalled to active duty, and was assigned as a Logistics Officer in first Iraq, and then later Afghanistan, a more in depth investigation had been performed by the FBI. The Colonel was charged with allocating millions of dollars, so the check run on him had been much more thorough than any previous one, and paid careful attention to his wife as well. Yet, despite all he now knew about Melissa Carter and her husband, he still had no clue as to what had brought her to the kidnappers' attention.

While Abby had been working with Courtney, the FBI agent told her that Vic Merit had reported that the bad guys had posed as exterminators, which coincided with Courtney's memory of them being dressed in coveralls and wearing gloves, as well as carrying heavy tanks. So after Abby had the search on the composite picture running, she'd started going back through the footage she had been downloading from all possible sources near the building. She had barely been able to contain her excitement when she located an exterminator's van, as identified by the logos on the sides of the van. 'Now I have something to track!' she thought, and went at it wholeheartedly. She was able to track it from various traffic and security cams. She was particularly pleased when a camera on the building opposite the one where the attack occurred picked up the three men leaving the building, via the loading dock, and immediately walking towards a black van, with tinted windows and logos for the extermination company. They got into the van and headed east. Abby pulled up the traffic cam footage and was able to track the van for about 5 miles. Then it pulled into a parking garage, and as far as she could tell, using all the cameras around the garage, it never left. By the time she had all this pieced together, hours later, her eyes were beginning to cross and she couldn't think straight. Even Caf-Pow wasn't helping any more, so to give her poor eyes a break, she got up to see what McGee was doing.

"Whatcha doing?" she asked, as she sidled up behind McGee, causing him to jump out of his skin.

"Geez, don't do that!" he said.

"Do what?" Abby asked

"Go around sneaking up on people!"

"I wasn't sneaking up on you! Why are you so grumpy?" she demanded to know.

"I'm sorry Abs," McGee said, shaking his head. "It's just I keep hitting brick walls. First the Hummer disappears from all cameras, and now, even though the files on Melissa Carter are really detailed, I still don't have a clue as to why she was picked," he explained.

"I know what you mean," Abby said. "I thought I was doing great, had the van they were using, followed them to a garage, and then – nothing. I don't see them leave, and the van never comes back out," she said, as she reached down to massage McGee's tense shoulders. "Tell you what, let me get my laptop, and I'll call up Nussbaum's files. Then we can compare him and Carter to each other, point by point. Two heads are better than one," she said, as she ruffled McGee's hair.

By this point, McGee was so frustrated that any new angle sounded like a good idea to him. "Sure, that'd be great," he said.

While they were discussing this, Jenny, who had been at NCIS since 0700, decided to call it a night. She had come in to see what Gibbs was up to, and then deciding that since she was already there, she might as well stay and get some work done. If she was being truthful, she would have to admit that another reason she had stayed was so she would be readily available in case all hell broke loose and the FBI found out that NCIS was hiding one of their agents. She had almost been afraid to leave the office, in case something else happened and she wasn't on-site. But since it was almost 1800 and nothing disastrous had happened, she figured it was safe to leave. On her way out, she decided to stop down and check on Abby and McGee, before she left for the night.

As she stepped off the elevator on Abby's floor, she became concerned when she wasn't bowled over by the usual noise masquerading as music blasting from the speakers. When she entered, she saw McGee and Abby both typing furiously on two computers which had been placed side by side.

She announced her presence, since they were so intent on their monitors, they were unaware that anyone had even entered the room. Their reaction caused her to pause mid step, as they both jumped and practically broke their fingers trying to black out their screens. Jenny tilted her head, and in an authoritarian voice, asked "What are you up to, Abby, and the truth would be a good place to start."

"Director Shepard," Abby said in relief. "Sorry, we weren't sure who had come in. Can't let the wrong people know about this."

Jenny studied the two technology experts. Both McGee and Abby looked slightly dazed, and there was an almost manic quality to Abby's expression. "Have you come up with anything yet?" she asked.

McGee sighed, 'Those are going to be the first words out of Gibbs' mouth, too,' he thought to himself. 'I hope the Director takes the bad news better than he's going to.'

"Not yet, but we're close. Really, really, really close," Abby was assuring Jenny, who studied the young forensic scientist, and decided it might be best just to drop it for now.

"When you get something, I expect to be the second person you notify," Jenny told them.

Abby grinned widely and nodded her head, "Yes Ma'am, right after Gibbs."

Jenny nodded back, and said seriously, "I know what you're doing is important, but I want both of you to take a break sometime soon, and get something to eat. You've been in here for twelve hours and you need to stop and refuel, and not just coffee and Caf-Pow, but real food. Do something different, walk around for a few minutes. You can't just sit at your computers for that many hours and not lose focus. Am I clear, people?"

Abby and McGee both nodded their understanding of her orders, and Jenny turned to leave, saying, "I'll be on my cell if you find anything. I'm heading over to Bethesda to check on Langer and Merit, and see if Fornell's still functional. Call me the minute you find anything."

After she left, McGee turned and looked at Abby. "We're really close?? I can't believe you told her that."

"Relax Timmy. You just have to believe. Think positive thoughts," she said, waving her hands around as if she were casting a spell.

"I can't think anymore at all – positive or negative," McGee grumbled.

"Aw, poor baby. I think Madame Director was right. We need a break. It has been twelve hours since we started. So, what should we do?" Abby asked.

Deciding food and a more comfortable seat were in order, they went over to Abby's futon and sat down, a stack of take out menus on their laps, intending to look through them and decide what they wanted to eat. As they reclined against each other, silently contemplating the merits of gyros over Chinese, McGee began to crash. He'd been awakened in the middle of the night by Gibbs, and had been unable to go back to sleep. Abby watched his eyes get heavier and heavier. When his head began to lull to the side, she scooted around and made her lap available as a pillow. McGee sank down, without really even thinking about it, taking advantage of her largesse, and before he even knew it, he began to doze. Abby sat and watched him for several minutes, his soft even breaths beginning to hypnotize her, and within ten minutes, they were both fast asleep.

Sleeping did not appear to be an option for Fornell. As the day progressed a steady stream of agents appeared, bringing coffee and pastries, soft pretzels, and sandwiches, staying for a while to offer support, then leaving either to get back to work, or home to their families. Fornell was rarely alone, and although it was good to have the show of support, he would rather have had the time to himself to think about the case, and to formulate a new strategy to help solve it and catch these bastards. By the time 6:30 P.M. rolled around, Fornell was exhausted, and finally alone. He had been up for 36 hours, and all the coffee in the world wasn't going to keep him going much longer.

Just as he was about to doze off, Jenny Shepard walked into the waiting room, carrying coffee and a bag of food. She had passed a couple of FBI agents on her way in, and spoke briefly to Assistant Director Charles Alleyne, offering her condolences on the death of Assistant Director Glenn, then she proceeded up to the ICU Waiting Room, towards Tobias Fornell. On a personal level, Jenny liked Tobias, and recognizing his quasi-friendship with Jethro, she knew he had to be a good guy. But he was still FBI, and still an adversary as often as a friend. Their relationship was not close by any means. However, in this instance, in recognition of the death of his agents, and the precarious health of the ones currently being treated, as well as his agreement to work with NCIS, she felt it was safe to let her guard down more than usual with him. He looked terrible, exhaustion and stress clearly showing on his face, and in his posture. He was not a young man, and no matter how determined or how motivated, he was about to collapse if he didn't get some rest soon. With that thought in mind, Jenny was about to pull rank and order him home to get some sleep. She was prepared to offer to stay and keep vigil for his agents, if he would agree to get some sleep.

After their initial greetings, and the offering of the refreshments Jenny had brought, she was working up to sending him home when they heard footsteps approaching the waiting room. They both turned to see the new arrivals, and were greeted by Ed Morgan and Liz Templeton, both returning to check on the status of their teammates. Jenny was relieved to see them, and Tobias was not.

His greeting to them was less than welcoming, "I know I told you people to get some sleep, so what the hell are you doing back here?"

As they walked into the room, Templeton noted that Fornell was there along with a woman she vaguely recognized, but couldn't quite place. She expected to be introduced to her after Fornell calmed down.

Templeton stopped so abruptly at the anger in Fornell's voice she almost tipped over, but Morgan, who was much more familiar with Fornell's bark, since he had worked for the man for years, hardly reacted at all. He responded calmly, "They're my agents, and I'm responsible for them. This is where I should be. I appreciate your being here, and giving me a break, but this is where I belong, and you should be the one to go home and get some rest. Sir." The sir was tacked on as a less than subtle hint that Fornell was being an ass, and he knew he was, but he was too tired to rein himself in. He nodded at Morgan, acknowledging that he was right, but not verbalizing his agreement. Instead, he turned his attention to Templeton, and demanded, "What about you, Special Agent Templeton? What are you doing back here?"

Liz wasn't sure what to make of Morgan's response to Fornell, but she figured, if he could get away with it, so could she, and she responded, "They're my teammates, sir, and I felt this is where I should be."

Liz had gone home when Morgan essentially ejected her from the room, and she was aware he was angry with her. She had stepped over the line with DiNozzo, and she knew it, but he pushed all her buttons. He also had no right to be here, since there were two FBI agents wounded, not NCIS agents. 'Yeah, yeah, solidarity, blah, blah, that wasn't it,' she thought. He was like a puppy following Gibbs around, and just seeing him, after the day she'd had, well, he'd been too easy a target, and she needed to vent some of the frustration and impotence she felt. She had tried to sleep when she got home, but after only a couple of hours, her subconscious had prodded her awake, and she couldn't fall back to sleep, no matter how much she wished it to happen. She had showered, dressed, forced herself to eat some cereal, and then headed over to Bethesda. She needed to check on Brent and Vic, and see if there was any word on that kid, Kreiger. Jesus, what a clusterfuck!

She had run into Ed Morgan as she was getting off the elevator, and he looked about as bad as she felt. He wasn't happy to see her, and she knew as soon as things calmed down, he'd be 'having a talk with her' or more to the point, dressing her down for her behavior with DiNozzo. There really wasn't any excuse for it, and she had no defense. She'd take the reprimand, and try to avoid the bastard in the future.

Fornell was too tired to be diplomatic, and said off-handedly, "Ed Morgan, Liz Templeton, this is Jenny Shepard, Director, NCIS. Director, Ed Morgan, team leader, and Special Agent Templeton."

Jenny had stood when Fornell did upon the arrival of the two newcomers. She was thinking he had as much grace as Jethro did when dealing with his own people, which is to say, none.

As Jenny was reaching out to shake hands with Morgan, two more FBI agents entered the room, as well as an Assistant Director, Todd Marshall, and Captain Richard DeAngelo, of DC Metro. They hesitated inside the door, but heard what she said to Morgan.

She held out her hand to Morgan, repeating virtually verbatim what she had said during an earlier call to the FBI Director, "We, at NCIS, were so sorry to hear about the attack on your agents, and please know that we will do everything in our power to lend any assistance you may need. We consider an attack on any federal agent unacceptable, and will treat the deaths of the five who were lost as though they were our own people. Since Special Agent Langer actually was one of ours a while ago, we take the attack on him, and Special Agent Merit very personally. The resources of our Agency will be available should you need them. Please don't hesitate to let us know what we can do to assist in finding the perpetrators."

Ed Morgan's smile, though forced, was sincere. "Thank you, Director, we appreciate the support. I'm sure our Director, or Special Agent Fornell will not hesitate to call on you if they feel NCIS can help us out."

Fornell nodded slightly as Jenny finished speaking, and realized she was genuinely offering her support, and at the same time misdirecting anyone who was curious about NCIS' involvement in the operation. He had always liked Jenny Shepard. Knowing she had been Gibbs' partner, he felt she could be trusted, but this was one of the first times he actually witnessed her during an undercover operation, and he was impressed. No one watching her interact with Morgan would ever guess that NCIS was already on the case, and working hard to find the bastards who were responsible for all this death and destruction. Her presence was easily passed off as a federal agency director making a courtesy call when another agency was facing a tragedy, and saying all the right things, nothing more. Very impressive, indeed.

Turning towards Fornell, Jenny said, "Special Agent Morgan was right Tobias, you should go home and get some sleep. He's here for his team, now, and to be frank, you look like hell. If you don't get some rest, you won't be any good to anyone. We may not be in the same chain of command but I'm going to pull rank here, if I have to, and order you to go home and sleep. My driver is downstairs, and I'll be more than happy to offer you a ride. "

Not about to be shown up by NCIS, FBI Assistant Director Marshall stepped closer to the group, and extended his hand, saying, "Director Shepard, we at the Bureau appreciate your support, and I agree with your assessment of Special Agent Fornell's condition." Releasing Jenny's hand, he turned to Fornell and said, "I AM in the same chain of command, and I'll make that an order, Fornell. You will accept the Director's kind offer of a ride, and go home. I'll stay with Morgan, and there are others here as well. Go home, now."

Fornell nodded in acquiescence, too tired to argue with anyone at that point. "Yes, sir," he responded, then turning to Jenny, he said, "Thanks, Director, I'd appreciate that ride."

Jenny nodded, then looking back at Morgan, she said, "These coffees are still hot, and I brought a couple of sandwiches, since I didn't know who had eaten last. Please, help yourself, and don't hesitate to call if we can be off assistance. I'd appreciate knowing if there are any changes in Special Agent Langer's condition."

Morgan nodded as he responded, "I'll make sure you are notified of any changes, Director, and thanks for stopping by and for the food and coffee. It's appreciated."

Jenny offered a smile as she picked up her coat, and turned to Fornell and said, "Come along Agent Fornell, let's get you home."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

Abby woke up with a start and felt something heavy on her lap. Looking down, she saw McGee, his head nestled comfortably on her thighs, softly snoring. Straightening herself back up into a true sitting position, she pulled her left wrist out from where it had been trapped by McGee's body, and looked at her watch - 3:12 A.M. the digital readout proclaimed. 'Damn it!' she thought. "McGee," she said, shaking his shoulder. "McGee, wake up! Come on, up and at 'em!" she nudged.

McGee tried to bury his head further between her legs. "Just ten more minutes, Mom," he murmured.

"I'm NOT your mother," Abby swatted at him. "Come on, wake up!" she said insistently.

"What….what?" McGee said, as he rolled over so he was facing up. Opening his eyes, he saw Abby's scowling face looming above his own.

"You made us fall asleep, and it's after 3:00," she accused.

"How is that my fault?" McGee asked, not fully awake, but also not willing to be blamed for something he hadn't even had time to process yet.

"You're the one who fell asleep while we were looking at menus," she said. "I was just keeping you company!" Her look dared him to disagree.

McGee, who was more awake now, with his sense of self preservation firmly back in place, wisely chose not to comment. Rolling to his side, he sat up, instinctually checking his watch, even though Abby had just told him the time. After giving his eyes a quick rub, he pushed himself to his feet. "Guess dinner's off," he commented. "We need to get back to our searches. It'll be morning soon, and I don't want to have nothing to report to Gibbs when he calls in to check on us."

They made their way back over to where, hours before, they'd set up their laptops. When they had stopped to take a break, they had been comparing Morris Nussbaum's and Melissa Carter's FBI files, point by point, and had yet to find a common thread. Their lives could not have been more different. "Okay, let's review," Abby said, as they waited for the machines to come out of hibernation. "So far, we haven't been able to find how Carter and Nussbaum are related. For one thing, Nussbaum is an Israeli citizen."

"Yep," McGee agreed, "and Carter's been happily married for twenty five years, and Nussbaum is unmarried, although he's been in a relationship with the same woman for five years now – an analyst for the Pentagon."

"Okay," Abby agreed. "They don't go to the same church, since Carter's Lutheran and Nussbaum is Jewish. So no one scouted them out there."

"I doubt if they've even attended the same conferences, since the companies they work for don't produce any of the same kinds of things."

"ARRGGGGGHHHH!" Abby growled. "So how did the kidnappers pick them out?"

"I wish I could answer that," McGee said fervently. "Why did the FBI have a file on Nussbaum anyway?" he asked, since Abby was the one going through Nussbaum's files.

"Same as Carter – they were actually running a background on his girlfriend, since she just got promoted. Her area of expertise is the Middle East, and her assigned duties involve helping in the design of the strategy to get our troops out of Iraq and into Afghanistan, and the ongoing search for Bin Laden. They had all that background on Nussbaum because he lives with her," Abby answered.

McGee was quiet for a few seconds. Something she had just said had clicked for him. He found himself thinking about the information contained in the files. All those glowing letters of recommendation.... was it possible that each of the kidnap victims was peripherally investigated because of someone else? For instance, Melissa Carter wasn't a criminal, and neither was her husband. They were both law-abiding, productive citizens, but here were detailed files on them. These files could be accessed for legitimate purposes, i.e., Col. Carter's promotion and increased responsibility in the military, but they could also be accessed for nefarious purposes, i.e., identifying potential kidnap victims. McGee's gut began screaming at him as he realized he'd just had a 'Eureka' moment! Of course, that made him stop and think, 'I must have been working for Gibbs too long if my gut is now talking to me.... oh boy, what's next? Mainlining coffee, growling at everybody, and slapping them upside the head when I get frustrated? Geez!'

"Hey, earth to McGee," Abby said, clapping her hands in front of his face and snapping him out of his musings. "Did you hear me? I asked you what you were thinking about."

McGee hesitantly started to tell her about his idea of how the targets were identified. It was a pretty big leap, and since he hadn't been able to confirm it yet, he was a little uncomfortable with sharing an untested theory. Abby, on the other hand, became immediately enamored with the idea.

"That's brilliant, Timmy!" she exclaimed. "That makes so much sense. No one would even know that someone was snooping on them, since they'd be ….." her voice tapered off, as she turned to stare at McGee.

"What?" he asked. "What's wrong?"'

"Let's say you're right. So, who do you think would have access to those files?" she asked quietly, not liking the answer she'd come up with on her own.

McGee nodded, having already worked it out for himself. "Yeah, that's right," he said. "Only someone with access codes for the FBI's computer files, or one hell of a good hacker. But the problem with it being a hacker is, they'd have to know the files existed, which still means an insider."

"Sometimes I just hate Gibbs' gut!" Abby exclaimed out of the blue.

"What are you talking about, Abs?" McGee asked, totally confused.

"How does he do that?" she demanded, still not bothering to explain herself.

"Do what?" McGee asked, squinting at her.

"Know things before we can prove it. He was sure yesterday there was a leak!" she grumbled.

McGee didn't bother trying to answer, because he didn't really have an answer, and wasn't sure if anyone did. It was just one of those things you came to expect from Gibbs. After it happened to you a few dozen times, you stopped trying to understand it, and just accepted it. "So now we just need to prove it, and we need to figure out if there have been any other victims. I guess we should start by looking at the background checks they've run in the last year, looking for people who have significant others in powerful positions in big corporations. I think I can probably write a program that'll help us with that."

"While you're doing that, I'll try and see if I can get the names of everyone who's accessed Nussbaum's girlfriend's and Colonel Carter's files. Maybe that'll point us in the right direction," Abby offered.

They fell silent as they both concentrated on their individual tasks. An hour later Abby sighed deeply, and then turned to McGee. "I've got a list, but I'm not sure how practical it's going to be. There are dozens and dozens of people who've been in their files – secretaries, accountants, HR people – you name it, they've opened up at least one of these files for some reason. It certainly doesn't make you feel very secure about how confidential any information the FBI has on us is. How's your search going?"

"My program's working pretty well. I have it pulling out anyone who makes over 200,000 a year, and then I'll have to go in and look at each one individually to check their employers. I'm starting to compile quite a list, but we've got another problem," he told her.

"What?" Abby sighed and asked.

"To confirm our suspicions, we need to know if the any of these people were abducted. But how are we going to do that? It's not like we can call them up, and say, 'Oh, by the way, you weren't kidnapped lately were you?'" McGee explained.

"Not to worry, Timmy!" Abby said, smiling broadly. "You've got the names of their employers, right?" When he nodded, she went on. "Well, we know from the FBI surveillance that both Nussbaum's and Carter's CEOs were told the ransom would be five million dollars, right?" Again McGee nodded, not seeing where she was going with this yet. "So all I have to do is hack into the bank accounts of these corporations and see if any of them made a five million dollar lump sum withdrawal or transfer. If it was a transfer, maybe I can even follow the money trail!" she announced, very pleased with her own brilliance. Neither one of them mentioned just how many laws they would be breaking, as they gave each other a high five over their plan.

"Speaking of banks," McGee said when something occurred to him. "We need to set up monitors on all of Nabscot's accounts, too; that way we'll know when they pay out the ransom demand for Melissa Carter." Abby agreed, and they were soon sitting, side by side, tapping away at their keyboards.

* * *

It was the feel of fingers teasing through his chest hair, and the warm gentle pull on his nipples from Tony's mouth that woke Gibbs up, and he allowed himself a small, selfish moment to just lie there, enjoying, before he opened his eyes and acknowledged Tony's efforts. All too quickly, however, his body began to crave more, and he reached out, his own hand running up and down the soft warm skin of Tony's back. His right nipple was released, as Tony raised his head and looked at Gibbs. "Morning," Tony said with a smile, his face already flushed with desire.

"Is it?" Gibbs asked, not willing to change his position in order to see the alarm clock on the bedside table.

"Close enough, its 3:15," Tony said. "We slept a lot longer than we'd planned, but I'm all rested now," he added, just before he started to use his tongue to trace an invisible line from Gibbs' nipple down his belly.

Gibbs shivered as Tony's journey took him further south, then audibly moaned when Tony's mouth found what it had been seeking. His tongue traced its way around the already leaking helmet of Gibbs' cock; then, without any more warning, Tony opened his mouth wider and took Gibbs' entire length into his mouth, not stopping until he felt the tip of Gibbs' penis hit the back of his throat. Then, because he was Tony, he softly began to hum "Good Morning Sunshine." The stimulation from the vibrations, and the heat of Tony's mouth, combined to push Gibbs almost to the edge, even as he choked on his laughter. Sensing Gibbs was close, Tony stopped humming and began to move his head up and down, all the while sucking and running his tongue up and down the sensitive veins. Soon Gibbs was panting from the effort of not coming, and he managed to say between moans, "Not this way….Come up here…. let's do this together."

Tony released him, and kissed his way back up Gibbs' body, stopping only when he reached his mouth, where he pressed his lips to his lover's mouth, opening to allow Gibbs entrance. When their lips were firmly locked together, Gibbs reached up, encircled Tony's body, and in one graceful move, flipped them both over so he was now lying on top of the younger man. Gibbs reached over with one arm, fumbling around until his hand found the drawer handle he sought, then dipped his hand in, withdrawing a small tube of lubricant. He managed to achieve all this without ever breaking contact with Tony's mouth. As Tony began to writhe underneath him, his groin pressing up into Gibbs', Gibbs worked his legs between Tony's, indicating his desire for him to spread his legs. When Tony complied, firmly planting his feet on the bed, Gibbs released Tony's mouth, slowly nipping his way down Tony's chin onto his neck, where he paused to suck and worry at the join between Tony's throat and shoulder, one of Tony's favorite hot spots. Releasing Tony for just a second, he opened the tube, allowing the slick lubricant to coat his hand and fingers, then tossed the tube aside, as he brought his hand down and slid it between their bodies, searching until he found what he was seeking. Once his fingers reached their destination, Gibbs slowly teased one, then two, and finally three into Tony's silken heat, thrusting them in and out until he was satisfied that Tony was ready, and then, in one slow, even push, he replaced his fingers with his cock, easing in to Tony until he was fully seated. When Tony arched his hips up into Gibbs', whimpering for more, as he wrapped his legs tightly around Gibbs' waist, he began to move. Placing one hand on Tony's hip for balance, while the other was firmly wrapped around Tony's straining cock, he began pumping in time with his thrusts. It didn't take either of them long to find their release.

Satiated, they lay panting, resting against one another, until their breathing evened out and their heart rates slowed. After Gibbs gently pulled out of Tony's body, he stretched up and pressed his lips against Tony's forehead, his hands once again roaming Tony's body. His intent was no longer to arouse, but to soothe, and he drew his own pleasure from the simple act of touching his lover. Tony sighed as Gibbs caressed him. He was a tactile person - he needed the sense of touch to connect; the surprise to him had been that Gibbs was as well. It went quite a way to explaining those head slaps of Gibbs', he had long ago realized. Tony savored Gibbs' touch, and smiled against his chest, then lifted his head, and just looked at Gibbs. Gibbs smiled at him in return, and then glanced over at the clock on the night stand. It was barely 4 A.M., and they were both wide awake.

Tony's stomach growled, and Gibbs' stomach echoed in empathy. They both chuckled, and Gibbs started to gently push off of Tony. "Let's get cleaned up, and then we'll go out for breakfast. I want to stop at the hospital to check on Langer, then we can head into the office and see what Abby and McGee have found.

Tony's smile widened as he rolled onto his back, then continued the motion to reach the edge of the bed and stood up in one fluid motion. "I'll go put on the coffee, you get the shower first this time," he said as he headed toward the bedroom door, on his way to the kitchen. Gibbs stretched and admired Tony's body as he strode from the room. He was grinning to himself as he headed to the bathroom, ready to face what was likely to be a long day for his entire team.

* * *

Jillian Marshall had not had a good day yesterday, and as she sat in her car, very early Sunday morning, she didn't have much higher expectations for today. She and David were on their way to the offices where she and Sylvia worked, having spent a rather tense and silent night together. After the meeting had broken up yesterday, the drive back to Washington had been an unpleasant trip. David had sat, sullen and silent for most of the drive, occasionally punctuating the quiet with a muttered curse, and Jillian had wisely left him alone to his own thoughts. Finally, when they were almost home, he'd broken his self imposed silence and said, "I've just about had it with DeAngelo and Phelps and their fucking superior attitudes. Who in the hell do they think they are? Acting like it's somehow my fault that that stupid FBI bitch ran into me in the lobby? And the stuff with the SUV – it was Peter who said we had to get to her right away, not me! What the fuck did he expect me to do?" Jillian didn't respond, knowing he wasn't really looking for answers, and not wanting to set herself up as a new target for his anger. Much as she lusted after David, she was well aware of his temper, and went out of her way to avoid ever doing anything to set him off. Instead, she had let him rant, and lost herself in her own private thoughts.

She was worried about several things, although the two most pressing were the mystery of where Courtney Kreiger had disappeared to, and the question of why NCIS had been at the hospital. There wasn't much she could do about the Kreiger situation. The woman had simply vanished. David had watched the FBI comb the neighborhood around the safe house, knowing he wouldn't be able to improve on the thoroughness of their search, and she and Sylvia had monitored the girl's credit cards and bank accounts. When nothing was turned up, she'd set it aside, knowing only time would solve that mystery, and moved on to worrying about NCIS and Jethro Gibbs. She'd met Gibbs once, when she was still in the Corps, although she hadn't mentioned it when Peter and Richard were discussing him, since it wasn't really relevant. He wasn't the kind of man one easily forgot. There'd been an intensity and singularity of purpose to him that she'd found attractive, although she had known, even then, that he wasn't the kind of man she'd ever want in a relationship. Instead, she'd contented herself with flirting harmlessly with the man who was his second, a good looking guy called Stan, if she remembered correctly. The flirtation had been harmless, never destined to go anywhere, as Stan was extremely good looking, and she'd immediately categorized him as out of her league. Not that Jillian thought of herself as ugly. Her looks were fine, she knew. She was tall and slim, and although her short blonde hair wasn't as luxuriously thick and bouncy as Sylvia's, it was a nice shade of honey. Her features were even, although nothing stood out as exceptional, and years of military service had given her a lean, well muscled physique. She supposed she could best be described as being attractively average, and she'd known that was not the type of woman Gibbs' senior agent was likely to date. That memory had made her wonder what Gibbs' team was like now. Who were they? What was their background? Would they pose a threat if it was discovered that they really were somehow involved in the investigation?

When they'd gotten back to Sylvia's office yesterday, in the early afternoon, she'd shared her worries with David, as they waited for Sylvia to return. They'd decided that Jillian should spend some time running a preliminary check on the team members, while David scouted out Bethesda, testing the level of protection being afforded the two wounded FBI agents, since it had been determined at the meeting that they would need to be eliminated. After David had left, Jillian had started searching on the computer. After some snooping, she'd finally found a small news article from a few months ago, in one of the online Marine newsletters she subscribed to, which dealt with a case Gibbs' team had solved. The article identified the other team members as Timothy McGee, Anthony DiNozzo, and Ziva David. Armed with their names, she began to see what she could discover about them.

She had just decided to begin with McGee, since his name was the first mentioned, when Sylvia breezed into the office and asked Jillian what she was up to. Jillian had shared her concerns about Gibbs and his team, and Sylvia had volunteered to hack into NCIS' personnel files, since she was much more skilled on the computer than Jillian. Once Sylvia'd gotten in, she left Jillian to do the actual searching, telling her she was going to call Peter and have him let DeAngelo know that they needed to get Gibbs' cell phone number, and preferably DiNozzo's also, so that she and Jillian could keep tabs on where they were at any given time. That left Jillian alone with the computer once again. Revising her plans, now that she had better access to information, she decided to start at the top and work her way down. Reaching out, she typed 'Jethro Gibbs' into her computer.

What she found there did not make her happy. One of the first things she discovered was that a great deal of Gibb's file was so restricted, it would be impossible to access without Top Secret Clearance. Well, she knew what that meant. Calling Sylvia over, she showed her the files. "He had to have been on black ops during the time those locked files cover," she explained to her partner. "That means the details will only be contained in paper files, since they never trust that information to computer systems." As they read together they discovered that he'd been a sniper while in the Corps, which he'd left eighteen years ago to join NCIS. There had been an investigation by the Military Police regarding the murder of the man accused of killing Gibbs' first wife and daughter. No charges had been filed, and the case had gone cold. Neither woman doubted Gibbs had killed the man, and it was interesting that he had gotten away with it. The file also mentioned that Gibbs had been married three other times, each marriage ending in divorce. Of particular interest to the women, was the fact that Gibbs' second ex-wife, Dianne, had been a NCIS agent herself, and after divorcing Gibbs, she had transferred to the FBI. A few years later, she had married FBI agent Tobias Fornell, whom she later divorced as well, after bearing him a child. The women had shared a look when they'd learned that particular piece of information. Apparently Gibbs and Fornell were much more than casual work acquaintances.

Since he became a team leader, he'd had one of the highest close rates of any team leader that had ever worked for NCIS. He had more civilian commendations than any individual ever in the history of the service, and interestingly enough, he'd also had more complaints filed against him than anyone else in the service, too. As they read through the complaints, a pattern began to emerge of someone who got his man, no matter how many rules he had to break, or who he had to run over to get them. They read about him killing Ari Haswari in his basement, after Haswari killed Special Agent Caitlin Todd, and they realized he would protect his people and avenge them whenever necessary, with no regard for rules, regulations, or laws. They are not happy campers as they read that file.

Jillian commented, "He's a fanatic. Once he gets on a case, no one would be able to bribe him or scare him off. It he gets on our trail, we're screwed. If that FBI agent, Langer, was on his team once, we might want to rethink killing him. I don't think we want to do anything to draw Gibbs' attention."

"You may be right," Sylvia said. "I'll talk to Peter about this later. Let's see what the files say about DiNozzo."

So Jillian had moved on, calling up DiNozzo's file. They'd both been surprised to learn that DiNozzo had a considerable personal fortune from money that had been left to him when his mother died, and that had, based on the terms of the trust, become available to him when he turned thirty. Since then, however, the man had been content to leave the principle completely alone, only occasionally pulling from the interest. The file noted that Agent DiNozzo seemed to live fairly frugally, his only notable personal indulgences being his wardrobe and a relatively harmless addiction to any and all electronic gadgets currently available on the market. His only other unusual expenditures were the large donations he made annually to a variety of different charities. His record at NCIS, while good, was not nearly as impressive as Gibbs'. In one yearly evaluation, the Director had noted that he'd stayed on Gibbs' team longer than any other agent, and it was stated as if that was somehow, in and of itself, worthy of merit.

Considering his educational background, they became curious as to why Gibbs had recruited him for his team, so Sylvia hacked into the Baltimore Police Department's personnel records to see if they could get any additional insight. They read through that, and when they get to the last case he worked, the serial killer William Jeffers, the case file was quite an eye opener. DiNozzo had allowed himself to be used as bait to catch the guy, but then there had been a screw up on the tracking device and he was actually taken. The file said that even though he had been badly hurt - stabbed, beaten, and some veiled suggestions of molestation - he still managed to kill the man, with his own weapon, no less, and protect the girl, an NCIS forensic specialist, the killer had taken along with him. According to the record, Gibbs and some M.E. had found them and gotten them to a hospital, and then Gibbs had poached the cop from Baltimore Homicide and brought him on at NCIS. According to his NCIS file, DiNozzo had no complaints filed against him, no reprimands, and many, many commendations, including letters from innumerable Navy and Marine officers and enlisted personnel who he had helped over the years. Apparently he was a lot tougher and more competent than they'd first suspected. During his time working with Gibbs, he had been accused of murder on two separate occasions, and both times he had been cleared of the charges by Gibbs, and the rest of this team.

From there, they moved on to Timothy McGee. McGee was quite different from DiNozzo. He held an undergraduate degree from Johns Hopkins in bio-medical engineering, and a Master's degree from M.I.T., so on paper at least, he was the much more impressive agent.

"Why in the world is he wasting his time working for some rinky-dink little agency like NCIS, for a buck twenty a day, when he could be making a killing in the private sector," Sylvia had wanted to know when she'd read his educational background. Jillian had been tempted to tell her that not everyone worked only for the paycheck and what it could buy you, but given what she was presently doing, she had supposed she didn't really have any room to talk.

When they read further, they were amazed to discover that, like DiNozzo, McGee did not really need the salary he drew from NCIS. He was the author of a best-selling novel entitled 'Deep Six' and there was a sequel in the works, which was expected to make even more money, which explained his finances. There was a complaint filed against him, from an Undersecretary of State, no less, for insubordination and conduct unbecoming, but no action had ever been taken on the complaint. There were also many fewer commendations than DiNozzo had, and it looked like he was more their technical go-to guy than a real agent. Although his computer skills looked formidable, they decided he didn't pose the same level of threat as DiNozzo might in backing Gibbs up out in the field, although the fact he had directly disobeyed an Undersecretary of State suggested he was no pushover. During his time with Gibbs, his sister had been a murder suspect, again cleared by Gibbs and his teammates, and McGee himself had been accused of killing an undercover D.C. Metro detective, and he, too, had been cleared by Gibbs and their team.

That had left them with one agent, Ziva David. They both had groaned when they read she was actually a liaison officer on loan to NCIS from the Mossad. Her file was sparse, to say the least, with most of it labeled 'Eyes Only' and not in the computer at all. They both knew that couldn't be good. Her record since joining Gibbs' team was excellent, although it was noted that a man had died while in her custody, and she had been investigated for his murder, but had ultimately been cleared, by the same M.E. that had been with Gibbs when he found DiNozzo and the girl in Maryland. This was not a coincidence, so they tried running the M.E.'s record, and found he had more 'Eyes Only' information than Gibbs. That had caused Jillian to shut the laptop, and turn to Sylvia. "Who are these people?! They aren't like any investigative teams I've ever run across. They don't seem to think the rules apply to them, and they're tighter than some weird religious cult. They seem willing to do anything to defend one of their own, no matter the established protocol. If they get involved, they're going to be way more trouble than the FBI."

That had been yesterday, and Jillian had been worrying about 'Team Gibbs' ever since. Peter had called last night and told them that DeAngelo had gone back over to Bethesda that evening and was convinced that NCIS wasn't investigating the shootings or kidnapping. DeAngelo had told him that the Director of NCIS had shown up there last night, offering her condolences to some Assistant Director of the FBI that had been there, and that the tone had been polite, but was more like one politician speaking to another. He'd assured Peter that if NCIS really knew what was going on, there would have been posturing and jurisdictional disputes. He'd listened to Sylvia's and Jillian's assessment of the potential danger NCIS would present if they became actively involved, but, since Peter had other things to worry about, he'd decided to take DeAngelo at his word, and had suggested that Jillian and Sylvia get busy finalizing the details on collecting the ransom for Carter. So here it was, five o'clock on Sunday morning, and Jillian and David were on their way to Sylvia's consulting firm, to take the final steps towards being one million dollars apiece richer.

* * *

Tony and Gibbs had stopped at their favorite diner for a quick bite to eat, ordering two egg and bacon sandwiches and some hash browns to go, figuring Abby and McGee wouldn't have taken the time to stop for food. Since they hadn't heard from the two technophiles since they'd left the Yard yesterday, Gibbs and Tony knew they would still be there, working to solve the mystery of what had happened on Friday, and delving deeper into the kidnapping syndicate. "I hope they stopped and got some sleep," Tony commented to Gibbs. "Abby gets kind of psychotic when she's too tired, and McGee is fussier than normal. You know, there's a good chance we'll just find two dead bodies when we get there," he said with a grin.

"Hope they leave us a note with what they found, before they off each other," Gibbs said, willing to play along.

"Better hope it's written in English and not Binary," Tony smirked, daring Gibbs to top that.

Gibbs didn't even try. He merely reached over, and slapped the back of Tony's head.

Once they'd eaten, and had their carry out for Abby and McGee, they got in the car and headed for the Yard. Tony was smiling; last night had started poorly, but it had ended well. This morning had been even nicer. He wasn't sure why he'd let Templeton's pettiness get under his skin, but any residual insecurity he'd been feeling had disappeared. Thinking about Templeton had reminded him of a thought from last night, and he said, "Ya know, Gibbs, we might want to warn Abby and the rest of the team about Liz. If she's going to be the FBI liaison, they're all likely to come in contact with her. Since I don't have a clue what crawled up her butt and died, I don't know how she's going to behave around them. Abby knows her, but I don't think that's going to save her if she decides to run her mouth around Abs. If she starts saying stuff about you or me, Abby's liable to order up a hit, and Ziva would carry it out. Then, between the two of them, Abby and McGee would make sure no one ever found a trace of Liz ever again. Not sure Fornell would be very happy if another one of his agents went missing in the same week."

"Well, technically it's not the same week," Gibbs said, but he knew that Tony was right. No one at NCIS was going to willingly put up with Liz's snide comments, and if she aimed them at Tony, he couldn't even begin to predict how Abby would react. "But, you're probably right. I'll say something when we get there. I'm sure Abby will be more than willing to fill McGee and Ziva in on all of Liz's finer points. She never did like Templeton, and I doubt if she's forgotten the cracks Liz made on her way out, even if it was seven years ago."

Tony laughed, thinking about Abby when she was in high dudgeon. "You know, I thank God at least once a week that Abby doesn't carry a gun."


	10. Chapter 10

"**A Friend in Need" - Chapter Ten**

When Tony and Gibbs walked into the lab, Abby's head shot up and her nose started to twitch. "I smell food," she cried, looking over at them. "Oh, please, God, tell me that's food you've got in that bag and Caf-Pow in that cup you're carrying." She leapt to her feet and rushed over to them, giving Tony only the most minimal of hugs, focusing her attention on Gibbs and the drink tray he was holding which was supporting a bag of food, a large container of coffee and a bright plastic cup with CAF-POW! written on its front.

Gibbs laughed, and in a rare moment of playfulness, raised the tray high in the air, out of Abby's reach.

"Not fair," Abby pouted, as she reached up, trying to liberate the tray. "McGee, get over here. I need someone taller."

"Not a chance," McGee wisely said from where he'd moved, now standing next to Tony, watching the game unfold.

"I'll give you the food and cup if you tell me you've got something for me," Gibbs told Abby.

"Well, then you'd better lower that tray, because you know I have something for you. We wouldn't let you down, Bossman," Abby declared, crossing her arms in mock affront.

Gibbs laughed then brought the tray down to within Abby's reach, holding it steady while she reached over and snatched the Caf-Pow. As he lifted the coffee cup out of its slot and handed it to McGee, he asked Abby, "Don't you want a sandwich?"

"In a sec," Abby said, as she practically inhaled a third of the cup's contents. "Ah," she sighed. "I haven't had anything decent to drink for hours. I couldn't afford the time to go get a Caf-Pow, so I've had to make do with crappy Mountain Dew from the vending machine." She took another large gulp, before taking the egg sandwich Gibbs offered to her.

Gibbs and Tony watched as Abby and McGee virtually inhaled the food; in mere minutes the food had completely disappeared. "When was the last time you two ate?" he demanded, after they had finished, causing Abby and McGee to look at each other, as they searched their memories for the answer to his question. The look told him everything he needed to know. "You have to make time to eat," he lectured. "It doesn't do any good for you to spend the night searching for answers, if you're so weak with hunger when you get them that you don't have the strength to do anything with them. From now on, make the time for food and Caf-Pow," he added with a small smile, to soften his words. "So, tell us what you've got."

Abby began by telling them about her success in following the exterminator's van to the parking garage, but subsequent failure at spotting them leaving and McGee followed, explaining how he'd tracked the Hummer to the residential block only to lose it.

"I thought you said you had something for us," Gibbs growled, "Finding them on cameras doesn't count if you lose them again."

"Oh ye of little faith," Abby said haughtily. "That's not all we have. I also have a good composite drawing of the man Courtney saw in the lobby, and its running through facial identification programs right now. Oh, and we know how the kidnappers are picking their targets," she said casually, knowing that would grab Gibbs' and Tony's attention, and she went back to sipping on her drink.

"Abs," Gibbs warned, when she stopped talking.

"Okay, okay," she relented. "Actually, it was pretty cool how we found out. See, McGee came up with the idea that ….." She proceeded to explain how they'd discovered the commonality between Carter and Nussbaum, and also how McGee had come up with a way to target other potential kidnapping victims, and that she was auditing those companies' expenditures right now. She also told them about the trace they were running on all of Nabscot's accounts, and how they hoped that would tell them when the ransom had been paid.

"That's good work," Gibbs nodded his approval when he'd heard all they'd achieved in the last few hours. "I want to know the minute you get a hit on any of those traces."

"What are you going to be doing?" Abs asked. "Are you going back to the hospital?"

"Thought we'd start there, then, when it's a little later, Tony and I are going to pay Melissa Carter's boss a visit. His name's Henry Goldblume. Can you find me his home address, Abs?"

"Sure, no problem, but I'd like to go to Bethesda with you," she said, her face suddenly somber.

"Not today, Abs," Gibbs told her gently. "Brent's in Intensive Care, and isn't conscious anyway. Wait until he's a little better, when he'll know you're there," he said, as he wrapped his arms around her when she plastered herself against him seeking reassurance.

"I'm worried about him," she whispered into Gibbs' chest.

"I know you are, Abs," he said, giving her a slight squeeze.

Abby allowed herself a few more moments to merely lean against him, before she took a deep breath and pushed herself away. "Okay then, back to work," she announced. "I'll get you that address," she said, as she surreptitiously wiped at her eyes.

"What do you want me to do, Boss?" McGee asked, although he was watching Abby with concern.

"Stay here, McGee," Gibbs instructed. "Help Abs, and we'll see what needs to happen when we start getting more information. You should both know that Fornell and I have arranged to have one of his agents function as a go-between. Her name's Liz Templeton."

Abby twirled back around when he said that. "Liz! You've got to be kidding!" she hissed.

"As you can probably tell, Abby knows her," Gibbs said to McGee. "She was on the team for a little while, several years ago," he added.

"What's wrong with her?" McGee wanted to know.

"She was completely stuck up," Abby complained. "I just hope she's chilled out some over the years, because she was one of the nastiest people I'd ever met when she worked here!"

"I wouldn't count on it," Tony warned.

"Do you remember the way she acted when you started," Abby demanded of him, "in front of Gibbs and everyone?"

"Yeah, I remember; it confused the hell out of me. I couldn't figure out what I'd done to piss her off," he told her. "We ran into her at the hospital yesterday. I don't think absence has made her heart any fonder," he told Abby with a wry smile.

"Did she say something to you?" Abby wanted to know.

"Nothing much," Tony assured her, but Abby had seen the momentary flicker in his eye that told her that he was lying.

Narrowing her eyes, she pinned Tony with a glare and commanded, "Tell me what she said, Tony."

"It was not big deal, Abs. Let it drop," he said, making it clear with his tone that he wasn't willing to go into it.

"She'd better not run her mouth in front of me," Abby declared, "or I'll…."

"You'll ignore her," Gibbs decreed. "We don't have time for a pissing contest. You're going to be the bigger woman," he added, effectively ending the conversation.

Abby shot him a quick look, letting him know he may not have completely won that argument, but she refrained from commenting further. McGee, who had crossed over to his laptop while Gibbs and Abby were talking, wrote something down on a post-it and then handed it to Gibbs. "Here's Henry Goldblume's address and home phone number, Boss."

As Gibbs and Tony headed for the door, Gibbs turned back and reiterated, "Call me the minute you've got something."

"Wonder who'll be at the hospital, this morning," Tony said to Gibbs as they walked to the car.

"Hard to say," Gibbs answered. "I just hope Fornell had enough sense to get some sleep last night. I doubt if the week is going to get any easier."

Ed Morgan was sitting alone in the hospital waiting room, enjoying a few minutes of quiet. He'd had a long night, which had followed a very long day, and he was wiped out. When he'd arrived back at the hospital yesterday evening, he'd been surprised to run into Liz Templeton. He hadn't expected her back that evening. Although Templeton usually got along with her fellow team members, she didn't go out of her way to be overly friendly. There was always an invisible wall surrounding Liz, which discouraged people from getting too close; you could sense it, and you sure knew when you ran into it, even if you didn't understand why it was there. It was hard to describe what made Liz different from most other agents. It wasn't that she was routinely impolite; as a matter of fact, there were times when she was almost overly polite. The problem was, you often walked away from encounters with her feeling that the manners she had displayed were more ingrained behavior which reflected habit, rather than sincerity.

Liz had stagnated at her current level within the ranks of FBI investigative teams. No one had ever described her as a rising star, and it had become obvious she would never even achieve the rank of team leader. It wasn't because she was incompetent; it was more because she never seemed to really connect with people – not her team members, her superiors, or even the victims of the crimes they investigated. Liz lacked warmth and basic human empathy. She wasn't exactly cold, but she was missing that vital something that made people want to confide in her, want to entrust her with their secrets or their fears. He'd witnessed her making the occasional snarky comment before, although it was usually reserved for when she was alone with the other members of the team. The blatant antagonism of the incident with DiNozzo still boggled his mind.

When everyone else had left last night, and it was just he and Templeton, he'd decided it was probably going to be his best opportunity to address what had happened between her and the NCIS agent. If she was assigned as the go-between for the two agencies, they needed to get a few things straight. The visitor's lounge outside Bethesda's ICU wouldn't have been his first choice as a location for this discussion, but he didn't see a lot of alternatives. "We need to talk about your behavior this afternoon," he'd said. "You need to explain your totally inappropriate attitude towards DiNozzo. I don't want excuses Liz, I want to know exactly what that was about; what the hell was that crack about a collar? In detail, tell me the story."

Liz, who'd been slumped in the chair next to him, lost in her own thoughts, as she tried to find a way to rearrange the events of the day so they made some sort of sense to her, turned towards him as he spoke. When his words sunk in, and she realized what he'd asked, she sat up straighter, immediately going on the defensive. Her first impulse had been to deflect. "He just rubs me the wrong way, has since I met him. It wasn't a big deal," Liz responded, as casually as she could, hoping he'd let it go.

"Special Agent Templeton, explain the comment, and do it now," Morgan had ordered, his voice deceptively quiet and calm.

Liz recognized that the quieter Morgan spoke, the angrier he actually was, so she had quickly decided on how to phrase her report, and then began speaking. "Seven years ago, I had transferred to NCIS from the FBI. I was assigned to Gibbs' team, and at the time, the two of us WERE the team. Gibbs tends to go through agents fast, most don't even last a month. I had been with him for about that long, and I thought we were working out well as a team. One morning, he got a call from Dr. Mallard, the NCIS M.E., asking if he knew the whereabouts of their forensics specialist, a ditz of a girl named Abby Scuito. She and Gibbs have some weird kind of father/daughter thing going on, and he spoils her rotten. She hadn't shown up for work that morning, and Gibbs ordered me to start tracing her cell phone. While I was tracing the cell, he got a call from Baltimore Homicide, asking if he knew an Abigail Scuito. Gibbs identified her as an employee of NCIS, and asked why the cop was calling. The cop gave him some song and dance about finding her purse, and wanting to return it, which Gibbs didn't buy at all. So Gibbs goes tearing up the Director's office, and tells him what's going on, and then tells me to stay put and handle any cases that come in, and he takes off for Baltimore, alone, after I gave him the location of Abby's cell phone, which happened to be at the offices of Baltimore Homicide.

The next time I hear from Gibbs, he's telling me that they think Abby's been taken by some serial killer they're tracking, and he wants me to run a background check on a Homicide cop named Anthony DiNozzo. He told me to stay in the office and be available 24/7 in case he needed me, which wasn't that unusual since he operates as though the agents assigned to his team are his property. There's no such thing as a scheduled weekend off, because if a major case comes in, Gibbs gets the call, and he expects his team to be there, with no notice, and regardless of any plans being disrupted.

So, while Gibbs was off taking over jurisdiction on the case, and I really don't know how he did that, other than just intimidating the hell out of the Baltimore cops, because there wasn't any Navy or Marine personnel involved, and Abby's a civilian employee of NCIS, so really, he shouldn't have even been allowed to participate in the investigation, but that's Gibbs, what he wants, he usually gets. So anyway, he's taking over the investigation, while I'm stuck running a background check on DiNozzo, which wasn't very impressive, that's for sure.

He started at a local private school then transferred to a military school for his secondary education. I figured he must have been a discipline problem, and the family's rich, so they shipped him off to try to get some control over him. He didn't exactly set the world on fire, grade wise, and he was clearly a slacker since he tested off the scales. In college he majored in Phys Ed and Criminology at Ohio State. He probably picked it for it's reputation as a party school. He had a partial athletic scholarship, and played on the football and basketball teams. I don't know how he qualified for that scholarship, his family is loaded, like, really loaded, so he must have been a helluva an athlete, that's all I can figure. There was something weird, that stayed in my memory because it didn't fit, and that was that he took out the maximum in student loans each year he was in school, and he worked part-time in the athletic department at Ohio State. I figured he pissed off his father one too many times, and he left him to fend for himself.

After college, he went to the Illinois Police Academy, where he graduated second in his class. Then he spent two years with the Peoria Police Department, and moved on to the Philadelphia P.D. for less than two years, where he made detective. He transferred to the Baltimore P.D. and he was there about two years, when all this happened. He had quite a few write-ups for insubordination from his lieutenant, but his solve rate was solid. I figured he had a more experienced partner, and he was getting credit for the work the partner did, since I got the impression he was some poor little rich boy playing cops and robbers, until the trust fund kicked in. I mean, he moved around a lot, and yeah, he got promoted fast, but then never stuck around anywhere very long. Must have been encouraged to move along by his supervisors, who didn't put anything down on paper that would stop some other department from taking him off their hands.

So, Gibbs calls me at about 2 in the morning, orders me to Baltimore to pick up some evidence he needs processed asap. I drive to Baltimore, and then have to sit and wait for hours until Gibbs shows up. While I'm waiting, the cops are asking me what's happening with the undercover op, and did we catch the serial killer yet. Well, I didn't know anything about the undercover op, or that this DiNozzo that Gibbs had me run the background on was the one they sent undercover. It would have been real helpful if he had taken two minutes to fill me in so I didn't look like an idiot when I was talking to the cops, but Gibbs doesn't think he needs to tell his team anything about what's going on, he's the only one that has to know. I could have been a lot more useful to him if he'd just told me what the hell was happening before I got there, but no. So anyway, Gibbs finally shows up, then gets in a pissing match with the lieutenant in charge over the evidence, and the guy just threw up his hands and walked away, sending his guys home for the night. So Gibbs finally reads me in on the op and what went wrong, which was that the locals fucked up beyond belief and managed to lose their own guy. DiNozzo had been wearing a collar, where they hid the tracking device, but when he was taken, none of the cops were actually monitoring the tracker. Who the hell would be stupid enough to authorize everybody to go out for a coffee break at the same time? I could see why Gibbs was pissed, and he wasn't making any secret of the fact that he thought the locals were downright useless. Made him real popular with Baltimore Homicide, let me tell you.

So Gibbs gave me all the evidence they collected, and sends me back to the Navy Yard with it, and he's there with no back-up, which I pointed out to him, and he tells me that the M.E. is there, and he can help out if Gibbs needs it! The M.E.!! Not an agent, mind you, but an elderly, ready for retirement, OLD M.E. is going to be his back-up! When I tried to suggest that we might just courier the evidence back to the Navy Yard, and I could stay as back-up, he acted like I was suggesting I take over the case from him, and practically shoved me out the door, with orders to call him the minute I had anything.

I got back to the Navy Yard and got the evidence to forensics, and stayed to help, then around 7, Gibbs calls, all pissed off that he's back at the club where the cop was taken, and it's locked up. What did he think he was going to find at 7 in the morning? It's a NIGHT club, not a morning club. So he tells me to find out who owns it and get them over there immediately, he doesn't care what I have to say, just make it happen. I spent the next half hour tracking down the owner. Boy, he was not happy at being woken up just a few hours after he went to sleep, but I cajoled him into going over to the club to meet Gibbs.

A couple of hours later, Gibbs called to tell me he had the surveillance tapes and wanted them enhanced. He found the footage of some guy dragging DiNozzo out to a Jeep Cherokee, and wants the license plate number and anything I can get on the guy. He also wanted copies of the pictures he'd taken the night before during the undercover op, since we were already running them through every database we had. Since he didn't have a way to access them on the computer, and he's not very computer literate, I offered to courier him clearer printed copies of the pictures, if he would wait until I could print them out. He agreed, and the messenger that brought him the pictures picked up the tapes from the club's security cameras.

We got id on about half the men who'd been on the film, and I called Gibbs. He told me he'd have the Director assign a couple of agents to help me and we were supposed to gather as much info on them as possible and keep Gibbs informed if anything looked interesting. He was finally treating me like a partner, and sharing some of the responsibility. I worked my butt off on that assignment, and I made sure the agents assigned to help did, too. After all, an NCIS employee's life was on the line, and Gibbs was counting on us to help find her.

It took most of the day, but we finally got a response from the tech people. They had cleaned up the tape enough to get a clear shot of the vehicle, and it was a black Jeep Cherokee, and at around the same time we were working our way through the men, and one of them, William Jeffers, had a Cherokee registered in his name. I called Gibbs and he wanted the guy's address. He was going all Lone Ranger and going after him alone. Well, he had Dr. Mallard with him, but please... so when I got off the phone, I jumped in my car and headed for Baltimore to back him up, so he'd have a trained agent at his back, and not some elderly M.E. who would probably faint if a gun were pointed at him!

I was about twenty minutes out from Baltimore when my phone rings and its Gibbs, telling me the apartment was a dead end, and he wants me to run property searches on the guy, to see where else he might be. So I told Gibbs I was on my way to back him up and he flips out at me, screams at me, and tells me to get my ass back to the Yard, and in the meantime call the agents assigned to work with us and get them started on searching for any property Jeffers might own. No, 'thank you, Liz, for worrying about your partner's safety, and wanting to back him up.' No, 'thank you Liz for working all night and all day to help me find Abby's location, and still being willing to drive to Baltimore to assist in the take-down.' Oh no, none of that, just get your ass back to the Yard and get me the info I want NOW. So I did what he wanted. When I got back, I was the one that finally found the info on Jeffers, and I called Gibbs, and he was less than grateful, to say the least. He refused when I offered to call in the state police as back-up, and told me to only do that if I hadn't heard from him within an hour. He was still playing cowboy, and I was supposed to sit and twiddle my thumbs, while he's out playing hero!!

I put together a back-up team, briefed them, and when an hour had passed, and I still hadn't heard from him, I called the staties closest to the location, and informed them that a federal agent needed assistance, that we had a possible hostage situation, and to approach with caution. We headed out as soon as I got off the phone, and were on our way to Frederick County when Gibbs finally called to say he had Abby and the cop, and that Jeffers was dead. Instead of thanking me for handling everything while he was unreachable, he tells me to continue on to the address and process the house, the basement and the Jeep, and that's on his way to the local hospital with Abby and DiNozzo. Does he bother to tell me their condition? Hell no, that would be sharing too much information, right?

I only got the whole story after I saw the reports filed by Gibbs, Abby and Baltimore Police reports filed by DiNozzo, and his lieutenant. When Jeffers took him from the club, he had cut off his clothes at a 4H fairground, and replaced the collar with the tracking device in it, with another, a black studded one that had 'whore' on a little nametag affixed to the front. Jeffers was nuts, he wanted men, but kept trying to convince himself that he didn't. He kept DiNozzo naked, beat and molested him a couple of times, and finally, DiNozzo managed to kill him with his own knife after Jeffers had stabbed him. Gibbs and Dr. Mallard found them shortly afterwards. We processed the hell out of the scene, and found evidence that proved that Jeffers had all the previous victims there, so at least the cases were all able to be closed, and I figured we were done with Baltimore Homicide.

Then Gibbs comes back to the office the next day, and tells me he's hired DiNozzo. This cop, with not the best record in the world, who managed to get himself taken by a serial killer, and Gibbs is bringing him on the team?? No way was I working with this guy. Why in the hell would Gibbs want him? It didn't make any sense, until Abby came back, and wouldn't shut up about him. Now, I know Gibbs has a soft spot for Abby, but even so, to take on this copshop retread because Abby thinks he's a hero? Are you kidding me? I would end up doing all the work, and Richie Rich would be coasting along on Abby's hero worship? No way! So I told Gibbs if he brought DiNozzo on to the team, I'd go back to the FBI. He didn't bat an eye, he just said, best of luck, and make sure you file all the paperwork, and give it to him for signature!!! Like DiNozzo's worth more than a trained FBI agent! There was no way I was sticking around to watch that disaster happen, so I went right to Human Resources and filed everything to transfer back to the land of sanity, where advancement up the ladder may be slower, but at least federal experience is appreciated.

I can't believe DiNozzo lasted seven years on Gibbs' team. I mean, he's an over the hill jock, who got booted out of three police departments, with a slew of write-ups in his jacket, and Gibbs picks HIM to be his senior field agent??? Man, things must have changed over there, that's all I can figure. But the guy just rubs me the wrong way. I guess he gets by on his looks and that smarmy fake charm of his, and somehow, Gibbs buys it. It doesn't make sense, since I know Gibbs has been winning Agent of the Year, every year, so maybe the rest of his team does the work, and DiNozzo gets by with literally fetching and carrying for Gibbs. I don't get it, but I see him, and it pisses me off all over again that he put one over on Gibbs and NCIS to get hired in the first place."

Morgan had sat there stunned. It had taken her almost an hour to tell the whole story, and the whole time she'd talked, he'd tried hard not to let his face reveal what was going through his head. At times during her recitation, he's been horrified by her willingness to use such a traumatic experience to poke at DiNozzo, amused by her utter lack of insight regarding Gibbs' expectations of her, and disdainful of her personal valuation of her contributions to the successful closure of the case. He had to actively work at not shaking his head in amazement when she was talking about advancement at the FBI being slower than at NCIS, since he knew she had advanced as far as she was ever likely to at the FBI. She had investigative skills, there was no question, but she lacked people skills, and her ability to read situations was abysmal. She could follow orders, as long as they were specific, and not open to interpretation. She always wanted to be doing what the other agents were doing, as opposed to what she had been assigned.

Morgan understood why Fornell wanted her as the go-between to NCIS, but Ed was sure that, given Templeton's personality, this was going to be disastrous. Her obvious antipathy towards DiNozzo, and her admiration for Gibbs, as well as her resentment towards him, could undermine any positive aspect of her having involved in this operation. As much as he admired and genuinely liked Tobias Fornell, right at that moment, Morgan wanted to strangle the man! He made a unilateral decision not to brief Liz on the Kreiger situation, and not to let her in on the NCIS involvement. He would wait until he saw Tobias, and then tell him, in no uncertain terms, that Liz was the wrong one to be involved in this, and they'd have to find another way. In the meantime, he was going to give Liz a verbal reprimand, and warn her of a written one from himself and Fornell, if she ever again treated another agent, no matter what agency, the way she had treated DiNozzo. He had to make her understand that it was unacceptable behavior, and would not be tolerated.

"You embarrassed our team and the Bureau yesterday, Agent Templeton. Gibbs and DiNozzo showed up to offer NCIS's support to another agency, on a day five of our agents were killed, and instead of showing some grace and appreciation for their concern, you attack the agent who just brought food and coffee for all of us, paid for out of his own pocket," he had said.

"They weren't here as representatives of NCIS, they were here because Langer was once on…." Liz argued.

"Enough! You've said more than enough already." He shook his head in disgust. "This is what is going to happen. You WILL apologize to both Agents DiNozzo and Gibbs for your behavior, and you will also make sure that there is absolutely no repetition of what happened yesterday, ever, with anyone. If I even suspect you have shown anything but the utmost professional respect to a representative from another agency, you won't get another verbal warning. I will personally put a written reprimand in your file, which should make advancement next to impossible. Do I make myself clear?"

Liz had sullenly nodded her head, and said, "Yes Sir." Morgan had waited a few moments, to see if she would apologize to him. When it became clear that she had no intention of doing so, he'd sent her on her way, with instructions to be back at the hospital by 0800, hoping that Fornell would have already arrived by then, and he could talk him out of using her on the operation.

That was where things stood, when Gibbs and DiNozzo showed up early that morning, once again bearing food and coffee. Morgan stood to greet them and gratefully accepted the refreshments DiNozzo held, as he brought Gibbs up to speed on Langer's and Merit's conditions, both of whom had shown improvement overnight. The doctors had made it clear that Langer wasn't out of danger yet, but had been encouraged by his response to the antibiotics they were pumping into him by the gallon in an effort to combat the infection, and Merit was most definitely going to recover in time. They sat and visited quietly for the next hour, and the two NCIS agents were just getting ready to leave when Tobias Fornell arrived at 0730.

Since it was just the four of them, Gibbs took the opportunity to bring both Morgan and Fornell up to speed on what Abby and McGee had discovered overnight, and let them know that he and Tony intended to pay Melissa Carter's boss a visit that morning. They were just beginning to discuss their options when Liz Templeton walked into the lounge.

Liz had not expected to see Gibbs and DiNozzo first thing that morning. As a matter of fact, she'd privately been hoping it would be a good long time before she ran into them again, but apparently her luck was holding true, she told herself. Knowing there wasn't any way around it, she took a deep breath, wished a good morning to everyone in the room, and then walked over to where Gibbs and DiNozzo were standing. "Agents Gibbs and DiNozzo," she began. "I'd like to take the opportunity to apologize for my behavior yesterday. I was out of line, and I regret that."

Tony, eager to put the whole ugly event behind them, said, "No problem. Yesterday had to be hell for you. I lost a partner once, and it took weeks for me to get my anger under control. No hard feelings," he added, as he held out his hand, and Liz didn't have much choice but to stiffly take it. Gibbs didn't feel quite as charitable, but he did nod his acceptance of Liz's apology. Fornell and Morgan had watched the exchange, Fornell with an expression of approval, and Morgan with a guarded look that was impossible to interpret.

When Tony began to casually visit, ignoring the fact that Liz was only answering in one word sentences, Morgan took the opportunity to ask Fornell if they could speak privately and they had excused themselves to the doctor's lounge. Once there, Morgan had expressed his concerns with Liz functioning as the go-between, given her animosity towards DiNozzo, and her conflicted feelings about Gibbs.

"She'll be fine," Fornell had assured him. "You saw what just happened; I don't think we'll have a repeat of yesterday. She's the best choice for this, Ed. No one's going to pay any attention to her comings and goings, and there's already a precedent set for her being here at the hospital. I don't see how we can bring someone else into it without setting off an alarm for whoever's watching the investigation. I'll talk to her myself, and then we'll read her in, since Gibbs and DiNozzo are already here. Go on back and send her in here to see me. Have you already spoken to her?" he asked.

Morgan told him he had, and summarized what he'd said. When Fornell observed, "Well, she seemed to take it to heart," Morgan knew there wasn't any point in pursuing the issue. Vowing to keep an eye on Liz, he'd gone back to the lounge, where he found the other three agents sitting in uneasy silence. Morgan then sent Liz off to speak with Fornell, and let Gibbs and DiNozzo know that they'd brief Templeton when she and Fornell returned.

Gibbs didn't need to ask what Fornell was doing, but he did take the opportunity to ask Morgan, "This going to be okay?"

Morgan wondered what in the hell he was supposed to say to that. It wasn't like he could offer up his own reservations, since Fornell had chosen to ignore them. Instead he just nodded and said, "Should be."

Gibbs had merely grunted in response, and then changed the subject by asking how they were coming on their end of the investigation. Morgan was telling him about the lack of workable forensic evidence when Liz and Fornell walked back into the room.

It didn't take them long to fill Liz in, since she asked almost no questions. She did express relief when she learned that Kreiger was okay, which Morgan took to be a good sign, but said nothing when Gibbs explained that Abby had found a way to pinpoint other potential targets, which concerned Morgan. When it looked like they had just about exhausted the subject, Gibbs was interrupted by his cell phone.

"Gibbs," he said, as he answered.

After listening to the person on the other end, he said, "Slow down Abby. Are you sure about that?" He was silent as she answered him. "Okay, Tony and I'll be back over there in about twenty minutes. See what you can do about verifying his information." After he hung up, he looked at the others and said, "Abby just got a hit on the composite drawing, a David Barker, ex-Marine. She's going have more recent information for us when we get there. Let's go, DiNozzo." As he stood to leave, he added, "I'll keep you informed. When we have anything concrete, I'll have you send Liz over for an update." After curt nods were exchanged, he and Tony left for the Naval Yard. He said a brief hello to Richard DeAngelo, who was getting off the elevator on the ICU floor as he and Tony got on to leave.


	11. Chapter 11

**"A Friend in Need" - Chapter Eleven**

David Barker stood by the window in a coffee shop across the street from Goldblume's, watching for a messenger to make a delivery. He had placed an envelope containing a prepaid cell phone, with only one number programmed into it, in the drop box for the courier service at 7:00 this morning, with printed instructions for it to be delivered to Henry Goldblume's penthouse by 9:00 A.M. This was how they'd contacted the last five CEO's. Goldblume would call the number, and Peter, aided by a voice scrambler, would answer on his untraceable phone, and give the man the account information for their bank in the Caymans. Then Goldblume would have the five million dollars transferred electronically into the account to secure Carter's return. Peter would assure the executive that after they received their money, Melissa would be released the next day, with instructions to immediately call Goldblume. Peter would stress that Melissa's life would be forfeit if either she, or Goldblume, contacted the authorities. If they simply let the matter drop, everything would return to normal. David was just killing time, waiting for the messenger to deliver the envelope.

Henry Goldblume was just sitting down to breakfast. He was a slightly paunchy man in his late middle ages, short and balding, but with a kind face filled with smile lines. His bright blue eyes spoke of intelligence and, on a more normal day, a wicked sense of humor. Today though, he just looked worried and tired. He'd sent his family off to their weekend home in Virginia, claiming he had business meetings he had to stay in the city for that weekend, and had barely left the apartment since then, afraid he would inadvertently miss the kidnappers' attempt to contact him. Having a free day at home was a rarity for him, even on a weekend. Usually he'd already be up and out, tromping through dew kissed greens, playing yet another endless game that had less to do with golf, and more to do with whatever business deal he was trying to close; but today was different. He had purposely kept his entire weekend free, in hopes that the kidnappers would contact him, and he could make the necessary arrangements to end this nightmare. There had been innumerable times over the last week and a half that he'd been tempted to ignore the initial instructions, and pick up the phone and call the FBI, but fear for Melissa's safety had always stayed his hand. He'd told himself the criminals would have no way to know if he called for help, but the stealth with which the entire thing had occurred scared him, and his conversation with Michael Weiss had served to frighten him even more.

He'd known Michael Weiss socially for years. Although Michael was an Israeli citizen, he'd lived in D.C. for over twenty years. His children had been born and raised here, and had attended the same schools as Goldblume's. They were members of the same synagogue, and sat on many of the same boards. He'd heard about the murder of one of Michael's employees, Morris Nussbaum, and had even sent Michael a note of condolence, but hadn't given it a second thought, not until Melissa went missing. When the kidnappers first contacted him, they had sent a note via messenger that explained that his employee had been taken and would be returned unharmed as long has he met the ransom demand when they made it. The note had assured him they were prepared to kill her should he not comply, saying they'd done it before, and could easily do it again. That was what made him think about Michael. Michael would never cede to a kidnapper's demands. Henry knew he'd spent time in the Israeli army as a young man, and Israel had a firm policy against negotiating with terrorists. If this had happened to Michael, he would have refused to pay on principle. So he'd picked up the phone and called Michael, saying he'd like to ask him a question about Morris Nussbaum. The uncharacteristic wariness in Michael's voice when he'd asked Henry what he wanted to know, had confirmed Henry's suspicions before he even got the question out, and when he'd asked if Nussbaum had been kidnapped, the dam that had been blocking Michael's mouth burst open. He confirmed what Henry had already worked out for himself, called the kidnappers every filthy name in the book, and volunteered to use his connections in the Mossad to help Henry get his own employee back. Henry had demurred, saying he'd need to think about it, and even though they'd had several more conversations over the last week, he was still putting Weiss off. If the kidnappers had killed Nussbaum, they wouldn't hesitate to kill Melissa.

When the doorman's buzzer had sounded, as he sat staring at the uneaten bagel in front of him, he'd pushed away from the table and hurried to answer. Pete, the weekend doorman, had told him an envelope had been delivered and asked if Goldblume wanted him to send it up. Michael's heart was racing now. This was how he'd gotten the first message from the kidnappers – a short, blunt missive delivered via courier. He was standing by the door, waiting, when the elevator opened, and Teddy, the college boy that worked the front desk, stepped out, carrying a manila envelope.

"Morning Mr. Goldblume," he said smiling. "Did you stay home today so you could watch the Skins play?"

Henry managed to dredge up a smile, not sure if it was very convincing, and said, "Unfortunately not. Today's all about work." He'd reached out to receive the package, automatically exchanging it for a tip. He thanked Teddy, and rushed back into his apartment, tearing open the envelope as he went. Inside he found a phone, wrapped in a piece of computer paper. When he took the paper off the phone, he saw it contained instructions, 'Press one on the speed dial. The person who answers will give you the necessary information for an offshore account to which you will wire five million dollars. Melissa Carter will be returned to you, unharmed, as long as you follow orders, and contact no one.'

This was it, what he'd been waiting for all week. God he hoped he'd played this right. He'd never be able to forgive himself if this didn't work out. Hurrying over to a bureau in his sitting room, he opened a drawer, removing a pen so he would have something to write with, then he turned on the phone, and when it had sprung to life, he pressed 1 and held his breath.

Peter Phelps smiled when the phone sitting on the desk next to him began to ring. He'd been waiting for the last hour for Goldblume to call, unsure as to when the messenger would deliver the package. In another few hours he'd be one million dollars richer. He could then concentrate on getting Melissa Carter home, and rearranging her room for their next 'guest.' Picking up the portable voice scrambler, and affixing it to the phone's mouth piece, he pressed the talk button.

"Henry Goldblume?" he asked.

"Yes, how's Melissa?" he heard the man ask.

"She is just fine, eager to get home. I hope you're ready to make that happen for her," Peter had answered.

"Tell me what I need to do," Goldblume had demanded.

"You already know what you must do," Peter said. "All you need now is the routing number for our account." He proceeded to read of a long string of numbers to Nabscot's CEO.

"How will I know when she'd safe?" Goldblume had wanted to know.

"Mrs. Carter will call you first thing in the morning, letting you know she is safe and sound. Remember what we told you at the very beginning. We took her once with no trouble, and we can do that again, if we have any reason to suspect you've contacted the authorities. Just put this behind you, say nothing to anyone, and soon it will seem like a dream, just a distant, unpleasant memory." When Goldblume had grunted out his acquiescence, Peter had added, "It was a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Goldblume," and he hung up. He had then immediately reached for his regular cell phone and called Sylvia, alerting her to start monitoring Nabscot's accounts, that the demand had been made.

While all of this was happening, Gibbs and Tony were once again in Abby's lab, in the basement of NCIS's headquarters. Since the team that had been dispatched to the parking garage had found no trace of the van, David Barker was now their only substantial lead. McGee had Barker's military record called up on a large plasma screen, and they were all studying it. Barker had been given extensive training in surveillance and counter espionage training, since the Marines had earmarked him as a possible Special Forces operative, due to his intelligence and level of physical fitness. They'd investing six years in his training, only to have him leave the service, when he had the chance. None of them were happy with this information, knowing it made the man potentially very dangerous. There wasn't a lot of other information on him. They'd run his name through civilian and FBI databases, and discovered he'd been brought in for questioning on investigations dealing with several high end scams, but his involvement had never been proven and charges had never been made. The FBI listed him as a person of interest, but that was as far as it had gone. For the last two years, Barker seemed to have kept his nose clean, and there were no further records on him. They had an address for him, right there in the Metro area, courtesy of his driver's license, and they were currently discussing how to proceed.

"McGee, I want you to call Ziva and get her back here. You and she are going to need to go check out Barker's address. Just observe, we don't want to apprehend him yet. Ascertain if he still lives there, and see if you can get a tail on him. After you get Ziva on her way, put out a BOLO on Barker, make sure you specify 'do not apprehend' on it. Anyone who see's him is to notify us. Tony and I are still going to pay Melissa Carter's boss a little visit, right after I brief the Director. I want you to call me the minute Barker is spotted."

"What about me?" Abby asked, as she bounced up and down on her heels.

"You are going to take a short nap," Gibbs said, his glare daring her to disagree. When she finally gave him a grudging nod, he added. "When you wake up, I want you to keep digging into the accounts of the companies the other people McGee established as potential targets work for. Tomorrow we'll begin contacting the CEO's of those companies, and see if we can't get some more information. It will also tell us who the next victim might be. I guess any of the potentials, whose companies haven't shelled out five million bucks lately will need to be talked to, and possibly guarded." When Tony and Gibbs left the lab to speak with Jenny, McGee was on the phone with Ziva, and Abby was slowly making her way to the futon.

Ziva, Courtney, Ducky and Jordan had been sitting in the kitchen, enjoying a second cup of coffee when McGee called. Courtney was feeling better that morning, the antibiotics had prevented any infection from setting in, and her body's natural healing ability was beginning to kick in. She was actually just about to try and convince Ziva that a short run might be in order, when the Mossad agent's phone rang.

"Agent David," Ziva said, as she answered.

"Ziva, it's McGee," Tim said into the phone.

"Yes, I realize that," Ziva had answered with a smile.

"We just got a hit on the composite picture; it's a David Barker. Gibbs wants you back at headquarters so that you and I can check him out," McGee said excitedly. It wasn't often any of Gibbs agents were allowed to check out a lead without him, and the fact that Gibbs was entrusting such an important suspect to he and Ziva was an extreme display of trust.

"I do not like the idea of leaving Courtney alone," Ziva said hesitantly.

"Isn't Balboa's team still providing protection?" McGee wanted to know.

"Yes, but…." Ziva began.

"Then it'll be fine, Ziva. Balboa's people know what they're doing, and no one would think to look for her there anyway. Gibbs and Tony are following another angle, so that just leaves you and me to track down Barker," McGee told her.

Ziva knew she couldn't really refuse. Plus, she was beginning to go stir crazy. It would feel good to get out there and do something proactive. As important as security detail was, it was never as fulfilling as actual investigating. "I will be there shortly. I just need to check in with Balboa and make sure he knows exactly how to get a hold of me, should the need arise."

When she hung up, three sets of eyes were fastened onto her. "Did they find something?" Courtney asked eagerly.

"Yes," Ziva answered. "Abby managed to id the man you bumped into in the lobby, and McGee and I are going to go and check him out."

"I want to come with," Courtney automatically responded.

"I do not think that would be wise," Ziva shook her head.

"It was my team members he and his gang shot," Courtney argued stubbornly, "and my description that led to the id. I would be able to recognize him the minute I saw him."

"They are looking for you," Ziva pointed out. "And you are not healed yet," she added.

"My shoulder feels much better today," Courtney countered. "I can raise my arm just fine," and she proceeded to demonstrate, although it was difficult to keep from grimacing as pain shot through her shoulder when she lifted her arm.

"That is quite enough," Ducky interrupted the argument at that point. "Jordan and I did not work to patch you up, just so you could rip open the wound again with foolish maneuvers like that. You have absolutely no business being out in the field yet. You wouldn't even be able to pass a field test right now," he pointed out.

"Everyone knows the field tests are overly difficult," Courtney began to argue.

"Doctor Mallard is correct," Ziva cut in. "You are not one hundred percent right now, and you would be a liability rather than a help. Surely you do not want to be responsible for someone getting hurt, because they had to cover you instead of watching their own back?" she asked.

Courtney looked as if someone had slapped her. Blinking hard to prevent the tears she felt welling up from falling, she quietly said, "You're right, of course."

Ziva felt terrible. She hadn't meant to be so hard on Courtney, but she realized the young woman would continue to argue unless someone said something to make her back down. Playing on her sense of responsibility had seemed like the easiest way to get her to acquiesce, so that was why Ziva had been so blunt. "I am sorry Courtney. I did not mean to imply you would knowingly put another agent in danger."

"No, what you said was true. I'll be fine here with Ducky and Jordan. You go on – just let me know what you find out, will you?" Courtney told her friend.

"Of course. Perhaps you will be ready to help in a day or two," Ziva answered, looking at Ducky for conformation.

"I think Agent Kreiger will be able to at least resume desk duty in a couple of days," Ducky confirmed, although he did put strong emphasis on the words desk duty.

"I must go," Ziva told them, as she stood and prepared to leave. "Remember, no one outside of NCIS is to know that Courtney is here. If someone comes around asking questions you should immediately let Balboa's team know, and then call either Gibbs or myself."

"We shall be fine, Ziva," Ducky assured her. "Now you had best hurry."

Courtney watched as Ziva left, frustrated by her injuries and not liking the fact that she had become a commodity that needed protecting. She'd worked too hard to be taken seriously in the Bureau for the situation to be easy for her. Excusing herself, she went up to her bedroom, where, away from all other eyes, she could finally allow the tears to come.

It was close to noon by the time Tony and Gibbs finally got to Goldblume's apartment. They had spent over an hour with Director Shepard, bringing her up to date on all that had happened since yesterday evening, and assuring her that there was no way anyone would detect the invasions on the private bank accounts that McGee and Abby had been busily conducting all morning long. They had also discussed how to approach Morris Nussbaum's CEO, since the man was not an American citizen and their files showed he had strong ties to the Israeli Mossad. The fact he had not come to the FBI after Nussbaum had been murdered implied that he might have turned to other sources for justice, and both Jenny and Gibbs were concerned that the Mossad might also be investigating the kidnapping ring. Neither one of them wanted to become embroiled in a dispute with the other intelligence agency, so it was decided that when the initial contact was made, Ziva would be a part of the team that approached Michael Weiss. It might not prevent a confrontation, but it was their best option. Finally, Fornell was called, to alert him to the BOLO on Barker, and to explain who the man really was, since the BOLO did not specify why NCIS wanted him.

They had just been about to leave, when Abby had called Gibbs, to tell him her computer had just gotten a hit on five million dollars being transferred from Nabscot's discretionary funds account into an unmarked account in the Cayman Islands. Unfortunately Abby had hit a brick wall in trying to discover who held the account, and while she had been working on that, the money had been transferred again, through several different banks, before landing somewhere she couldn't find, probably in an account in Switzerland, the most notoriously difficult country to get any banking information from, no matter what the reason. Gibbs had been so frustrated, he hadn't even asked why Abby wasn't sleeping as ordered, instead telling her to try and see if there was any other traceable movements from the Cayman account, then had growled at Tony to follow him, as he stalked out of the building.

David Barker was still sitting in the coffee shop, slowly drinking his fifth cup of coffee when Tony and Gibbs arrived. He knew that the money had been transferred, and was merely watching to make sure that Goldblume didn't contact the police. Peter had insisted he keep his eye on Goldblume all day, until they were ready to transport Carter back to her house, that night. Barker had been irritated when Peter had ordered him to stay, since he felt it was a waste of time. He was much more interested in checking out the NCIS agent, Gibbs, that Sylvia and Jillian were so worried about, just to assure himself there was no reason for alarm. He was completely thrown when he watched a car pull up in front of the apartment building, and Jethro Gibbs and Anthony DiNozzo got out. 'Shit!' he thought to himself. 'This is not good.' There was only one explanation for why the two NCIS agents would be there. He waited until they had entered the building, and then hurriedly left the coffee shop, headed for the black van, wanting the security of its tinted windows, his cell phone already out, as he prepared to call Phelps.

Henry Goldblume was surprised when there was a knock on his front door. 'Why didn't Pete call to announce a visitor?' he wondered, as he moved to answer it. After the delivery of the cell phone, the morning had passed in a blur for him. The minute he'd hung up, he had immediately called Andrew Williford, his CFO, to give him the account information for transferring the money. Aside from himself, Williford was the only other person at Nabscot who knew exactly what was going on with Melissa. They had had several arguments over the past week, as Williford did not want to pay the kidnappers off, preferring instead for them to go to the authorities. It wasn't until after Henry had told him what he had learned from Michael Weiss that Williford had reluctantly agreed to go along with the plan. Andrew was the one who would have to make the actual transfer, as all the security codes for their banking system were keyed to him. Since that time, Henry had been sitting and waiting, hoping against hope that the kidnappers might release Melissa early, and every time the phone had rung, he'd felt a little pang of anticipation, only to have it dashed when someone else was on the other end. Now, as he hurried to the door, he once again felt a spark of hope. 'What if it's Melissa?' he thought to himself. He was so hopeful, that he failed to even look through the peephole before opening the door, only to find two strange men standing in the hall.

"May I help you?" he asked in a startled voice, after he'd opened the door.

The older of the two men held up and badge and ID and said, "I'm Special Agent Jethro Gibbs, from the Naval Criminal Investigative Services, and this is my Senior Agent, Anthony DiNozzo. We'd like a few minutes of your time, Mr. Goldblume."

"May I ask what this is about?" Henry inquired after he'd examined the man's badge, secretly afraid he knew exactly why the men were there.

"We'd like to talk to you about one of your employees," Gibbs said. "Do you mind if we come in?"

Henry didn't see any way around it. What was he going to do, refuse them entry? "Certainly," he said, stepping aside so they could enter, and then leading the way into the sitting room. When they'd gotten themselves settled in the upright chairs arranged around a small coffee table, he asked, "Just which one of my employees does this involve?"

"I think you know," Gibbs said to him, holding Goldblume's eyes with the force of his stare. "We'd like to talk to you about Melissa Carter," and he watched to see what Goldblume's reaction would be. He was actually fairly impressed with the self control the man exhibited. The only tell tale sign of distress Gibbs could perceive was the few beads of sweat that seemed to magically appear on Goldblume's forehead. This was clearly a man who'd learned to school his thoughts over the years.

"Melissa Carter is an excellent employee," Goldblume said rather formally. "I can't imagine what your interest in her might be."

"Look Mr. Goldblume, I don't have time to verbally fence with you," Gibbs declared. "We're well aware of what is going on with Ms. Carter, and we know that you've ceded to the kidnappers' demands. We need to know all the details so we can catch these bastards before they take another innocent person." Goldblume seemed to deflate before Gibbs' very eyes. His shoulders slumped, and Gibbs realized just how tired he really was, as his face paled and the dark circles around his eyes stood out in high relief.

"I can't talk to you about this right now," Goldblume said in a barely audible voice. "How do you know about this, anyway?" he asked.

"I'll explain that to you when you tell me everything you know, and now would be a really good time," Gibbs said emphatically. "Every second we don't have the full picture, gives the kidnappers more time to hide their trail."

"Not today," Goldblume said, as he straightened up and looked at Gibbs with new found determination. "I have nothing to say about this – today," he repeated, his voice growing in strength. Henry couldn't do anything that might jeopardize Melissa's release. Over the past few years Melissa had become more than an employee to Henry. He'd admired her drive and creative thinking when he'd hired her, and there was no denying her importance to the success of the company, but what Henry valued most about her was her friendship. He and his wife regularly socialized with Melissa and her husband, and he had deep admiration for her commitment to her relationship with her husband Jeff. They were living proof that marriages based on respect and friendship last, and Henry would be damned if he would do anything which might lead to Melissa being hurt, or worse. Jeff wasn't here now, to protect her, so Henry had assumed that responsibility.

"Mr. Goldblume, I don't think you fully understand the situation," Gibbs began, but he was cut off when Goldblume snapped out a reply.

"Oh, I can assure you, I have a complete understanding of the situation. It's you, Agent Gibbs, who doesn't have the full picture, and I am not about to sketch it out for you in any more detail right now, not when there's even the most remote chance that my speaking to you could endanger Melissa. I appreciate your interest in helping her, but this isn't the way. Now, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave," he said, and stood up to punctuate his request.

Gibbs decided to give it one more try. "These people are dangerous, and need to be stopped. They've already killed one of their victims," he said, hoping to scare Goldblume into cooperating.

"I'm well aware of what they're capable of," Goldblume answered, not betraying how much he knew about Nussbaum's death. "That is why I'm not at liberty to divulge any information to you right now. Give me your card, and as soon as I deem it safe, I'll call you," he said.

It certainly wasn't the concession he'd hoped to wring from the man, but Gibbs could tell he wasn't going to get anything more at that moment. "I hope you'll reconsider your position, Mr. Goldblume. This is a dangerous game, and the stakes are awfully high. I'm not sure you're ready to play it. This is what we do; let us help," Gibbs said, as he drew out a card from his wallet and handed it to the man.

"I fully appreciate the stakes, Sir," Goldblume said, then he moved to the front door, with Tony and Gibbs following behind him. When he had the door open, he said, "Good day gentlemen, I'm sure we'll speak later."

After Tony and Gibbs had left, Goldblume had collapsed against the closed door, his eyes closed, and his breathing uneven. He hoped he'd made the right decision just now. The men seemed more than capable, and their desire to help couldn't be denied, but Henry hadn't been able to dismiss the warning given him by the kidnappers – Don't tell anyone about this. 'Maybe when Melissa is safe and sound….' he thought.

After exiting the building, Gibbs looked across the street and saw the coffee shop. "Time to refuel," he told Tony, as he headed across the street, walking around a parked black van with tinted windows, to get to the shop. They were discussing the likelihood of hearing from Goldblume later that day as they went in to get Gibbs a much needed cup of coffee.

In the van, David was having a slightly hysterical conversation with Peter. "….Sylvia and Jillian said the man was dangerous," he was saying into the phone. Peter interrupted him mid-rant. David had been saying the same thing over and over for the last five minutes, refusing to be calmed by Peter's more reasonable words. Now, Peter's other phone was ringing. "I've got another call coming in. Sit tight, I'll call you as soon as I'm done, and we can talk about what to do next," he told David, as he disconnected.

When Peter answered the other phone, Richard DeAngelo's voice washed over him, sounding every bit as frantic as David's. "Peter, we're in deep shit," DeAngelo began the conversation by saying.

Peter ran a hand across his eyes; the day certainly wasn't getting any better. "Take a deep breath and tell me the problem. Did David call you?" Peter said, thinking it would be just like David to have called Richard first, just to rile him up.

"David? Why would he call me? Is he in trouble? He's the reason I'm calling," DeAngelo hissed into the phone.

"What are you talking about Richard?" Peter asked.

"I just left Bethesda. I've been sitting there half the damn morning, trying to see what I could learn. About a half hour ago, Fornell got a call, and when he came back into the room he told me they had just put out a BOLO on a David Barker in connection with the shootings yesterday. And get this, any sightings are supposed to be reported to NCIS! I asked him what had tipped him to the man, and he refused to talk. He told me if I wanted to be helpful I could go back to METRO and get all the precinct captains to really push this BOLO. That didn't really leave me with a lot of choices. I've spent the last thirty six hours offering up METRO's help in finding the shooters, so when he finally asked me to do something, I couldn't very well say I'd rather stay there. I want to know how in the hell they found out about Barker, and you need to make sure he makes himself invisible, right now." Richard had sounded more and more desperate as he'd spoken.

Peter couldn't believe it. First Gibbs and DiNozzo show up at Goldblume's, and now this. Thinking quickly, he said, "Okay, take it easy. I'll make sure David stays off the radar, but we need him to get Carter back tonight. I'm also going to speed up the time clock. If Gibbs is on to our scent, we need to step everything up. I'm going to have David and his crew grab the next person after they put Carter back in her own bed tonight. If we play this right, we'll be just fine. Go do what Fornell asked you to Richard. You can't afford to make him suspicious. It'll be fine, you'll see. We'll have an emergency meeting tomorrow, after the next guy's safely stashed in our bedroom."

"I don't like it," Richard began.

"You don't need to like it," Peter said bluntly. "You just need to do your part. It'll be over soon, and you'll be ten million dollars richer. You can reclaim your family and start a new life very soon. Just keep the end goal in sight, and we'll be fine. I'll talk to you later. I need to get to Barker right now," he said, as he hung up.

Picking up his cell phone, he punched four on the speed dial. When it was answered he said, "I need you back here right now. Don't stop anywhere on your way here, and make sure no one sees you. I'll explain why when you get here." He disconnected without waiting for a reply.

Gibbs and Tony, drinks in hand, waited while the van in front of the coffee shop backed out of its parking spot, before they headed back to their own car. "So, where to next?" Tony asked.

"Might as well grab something to eat," Gibbs said. "Then, if we haven't heard anything new, I guess we head back to the lab to see what Abby's dug up. Looks like its going to be another long day."


	12. Chapter 12

"**A Friend in Need" – Chapter Twelve**

Ziva and McGee had been sitting around the corner from David Barker's townhouse complex for well over three hours, and they were both beginning to go stir crazy. Ziva had by this time cleaned all of her fingernails with the point of one of her knives, sharpened two others, and was now in the process of cleaning McGee's gun, since she claimed he didn't take proper care of it. For his part, McGee had had a thirty message IM conversation with his editor on his Blackberry, which had resulted in him promising to have two new chapters ready within the next three weeks, just to get the woman to stop nagging him. He had also fielded two calls from Abby, and another from Gibbs, neither of whom he'd made very happy when he didn't have anything new to report.

"This is hapless!" Ziva exclaimed, breaking the silence that had descended on the car an hour ago. "He is not going to show up here, and we are wasting our time."

"Hopeless Ziva, not hapless," McGee said automatically. "Hapless means unlucky or unfortunate."

"And this is not unfortunate?" she asked.

"Well, yes this is unfortunate, but that isn't what you meant," McGee started to argue.

"And how do you know what I meant?" Ziva demanded.

"Look Ziva, I'm not going to get into an argument with you over this. You're starting to sound like Tony," he announced. When he noticed her taking out her phone, he asked, "What are you doing?"

"I am calling Gibbs. I want to check out the inside of Barker's house, while you watch from here," she told him.

"Why do you get to be the one to go in?" McGee asked.

Ziva raised an eyebrow as she looked at him, a trick she'd learned from Gibbs and answered, "I get to go in since I am the one who knows how to pick the lock. Is there anything else you would like to argue about before I call Gibbs?"

McGee was still sputtering about not being the one who was arguing when she pressed the speed dial button. When Gibbs answered Ziva asked him for permission to execute her plan, explaining that McGee could stay in the car and watch to make sure Barker didn't return while she was inside. She pointed out that they'd been there for several hours and there had been no sign of the man. This might be their only chance to get any additional information. Gibbs had reluctantly consented, telling her to make sure she left absolutely no sign of her presence. He ordered her to call him immediately if she found anything that might tell them more about what was going on and where the kidnappers were holding Melissa Carter. He ended the conversation by warning her to be careful.

With McGee watching her back from the car, Ziva slipped out of the car, stepped behind the bushes of the house they were parked in front of, and vanished from sight. McGee was still wondering how she did that when his phone rang once and then quit, the sign he and Ziva had established to let him know she was in the house.

Gun drawn, Ziva had entered from a back door that opened up into a small laundry room. She sniffed the air, not at all happy to discover there was no trace odor of laundry detergent. Clearly Barker hadn't washed dirty clothes here for a while. As she sidled into the next room, she found herself in the kitchen. Once again, there was little evidence of habitation – no dirty cups in the sink, or washed dishes sitting in a drying rack on the counter. A quick glance into the refrigerator revealed a host of condiments, some beer, a jar of pickles, and a couple of shriveled apples, but other than that, it was empty. From the kitchen, she stepped into a small living room. The furniture was modern and tasteful, a combination of black leather and blonde wood. The flat surfaces were not overrun with knickknacks, and the few chrome framed pictures sitting out were images of mountains, waterfalls, and wild life. It looked like a showcase living room, put together by some interior designer, meant to suggest masculinity, but purposely devoid of individualism. 'Who is this man?' Ziva found herself wondering. There were two bedrooms in the house, the first of which Barker clearly used for sleeping. There was a neatly made queen sized bed, dressed in an expensive, but understated, slate grey silk duvet, with several white, grey and black pillows stacked at its head. The birch and stainless steel dresser contained neatly folded underwear, sweaters, t-shirts, and pullovers, along with some jeans, khakis and various articles of clothing intended for working out. In the closet she found suits, shirts, ties, shoes, and various other pieces of clothing. What disturbed her were the gaps she had found in the carefully arranged hanging clothes, and the folded items in the dresser. It appeared as though Barker had packed enough clothing to see him through an extended time away.

Reholstering her gun, Ziva went to explore the other bedroom. It had been arranged as a home office, and there was a glass topped desk, the writing surface perched atop two chrome table saw shaped supports. The one thing that was conspicuously missing was a computer. Barker must use a laptop, which he had taken with him when he left. A large black filing cabinet sat against the wall, and when Ziva tried to pull open a drawer, she discovered it was locked. Pulling out her lock pick, she unlocked the unit, and took a quick look inside the drawers. She found copies of his insurance policies, which she quickly scanned, and was surprised and frustrated when she discovered that a local veterans' association had been named as beneficiary on all of his policies. That wasn't going to be any help. She found a copy of the bill of sale for the house, the only thing interesting about that was the fact that he had paid for it in full, rather than taking out the usual mortgage. There were bank statements, neatly filed in folders, and she used her phone to take a picture of them, so that they would have the bank's name and his account numbers, but a quick glance through them didn't trigger any warning signs. Barker seemed to be living fairly modestly, and his balance, as of two months ago, was only six thousand dollars and some odd cents. Copies of his utility and phone bills were there, and seemed to be paid on time. She was surprised that she didn't find a record of him having a cell phone, and actually looked through all the papers twice, to make sure she hadn't missed it, to no avail. She even found his discharge papers from the Marine Corps, but other than that, there was nothing in there to give her a real feel for the man.

Actually, the lack of helpful information was beginning to tell Ziva a lot about Barker. He obviously had been careful to leave no real information about himself sitting around, available to anyone who might come snooping. This was not a man to be taken lightly. Ziva recognized the caution he exhibited; her own apartment was not much different. Any important information she owned was kept in a safety deposit box at the bank, and Ziva was very frustrated by the fact that she'd found no record of Barker possessing such a thing. 'I would bet he has one in another name,' she thought to herself, as she looked through the closet in the office, only to discover it was his catch all closet, and was filled with office supplies, luggage, assorted sports paraphernalia, old magazines, and assorted other items equally as impersonal. Moving back through the house, she took out her cell phone and punched in McGee's number, letting it ring twice, before she disconnected. That was the signal to indicate she was leaving.

Within minutes, Ziva was opening the door to their car, and sliding back into the passenger side. "There was nothing in there that told me a thing about the man. It is as if he were a ghost. I found some banking information, but I suspect it is not his main account, as it had only six thousand dollars in it, and seemed to only be used to pay his bills. There was no credit card account information, no phone or address books, nothing that really told a thing about how he spends his time, and it appears as if he has not been there in a while. This is a death end," she announced in exasperation.

"Dead end," McGee corrected her without even realizing he'd done it. "We should call Gibbs, then. If he still wants the place watched, there might be someone else who can be assigned, so we can move on to other things."

When Gibbs heard what Ziva had seen, he agreed that Barker's house sounded like a dead end, and told them to head back to the Yard, saying he'd get Jenny to assign someone else to watch the house for the next few hours. Ziva and McGee found themselves back in Abby's lab by 1500, along with Tony and Gibbs, listening to Abby give them an update on her findings. She had continued searching through the FBI background check files that she and McGee had been exploring that morning, and now had a list of about twenty potential victims. Her computers were still scanning through their employers' various bank accounts, but she already had isolated three companies, aside from Nabscot, that had made a five million dollar lump sum payout to private accounts outside of the United States. The team all agreed that these were very likely other victims of the kidnappers. She also explained how she had lost the money trail on Nabscot's transfer, as it bounced from one account to another, and that, try as she might, she couldn't access any additional information on the accounts. When she was done, she looked tired and discouraged.

"Go home people," Gibbs surprised them all by saying.

"But Gibbs…" Abby said.

"There isn't anything else we can do today, Abs," Gibbs explained. "We'll need to talk to all the CEO's of those companies you've located, but most of them won't be available until tomorrow. Since Nabscot paid the ransom today, Melissa Carter will probably show up somewhere tomorrow, then maybe Goldblume will be willing to talk to us. Everyone here needs a good night's sleep, since if all goes well, things will start to pick up tomorrow, and we may not get the chance again for awhile." Then, looking over at Ziva, he asked, "Are you going back to Ducky's?"

"Yes. I want to check in with Balboa's team, and see how Courtney is doing. She is getting restless; she even tried to convince me to let her go with me this morning," she answered.

"Kreiger is to stay put!" Gibbs declared forcefully. "We didn't go to all the trouble of hiding and protecting her, just so she can stick her neck back out and ask to get killed. Tell Ducky to call in sick tomorrow – I'll talk to the Director. I want someone with her at all times, and Balboa and his people have their hands full securing the perimeter. You talk some sense into her," he ordered. "Are we clear?" he asked everyone. When they all nodded in response, he said, "Get moving people."

* * *

While the NCIS team was dispersing, people were beginning to congregate at Phelps' place in Virginia. Barker had arrived there shortly after one, and Peter had taken the opportunity of speaking to him alone so he could tell him about the BOLO. As Peter had suspected, Barker went ballistic. When he had finished cursing Courtney, both her parents, and NCIS, Peter had interrupted him and said, "There isn't a lot we can do about this David, except make sure they don't find you, and as long as you're smart, that won't happen. All of our vehicles are registered under phony names, and their windows are tinted so darkly that no one can see into them. As long as you don't do something stupid, they should have no way of finding you. You've been staying with Jillian for the last few months, haven't you?" he asked. When Barker confirmed that, Peter continued, "Then they won't be able to pick up your trail from you place. Is there anything there that would lead them to Jill?"

"Of course not. Do you think I'm stupid?" David snapped.

Peter kept his thoughts on that subject to himself, and didn't answer the question. Instead, he said, "It'll be dark when you return Carter to her home, so no one will be able to see you then. I've talked to the others, and we all agree that we need to step up the time schedule. I want you to take the next person tonight, after you drop Carter off."

"That doesn't give me enough time to plan it out," Barker objected. "How am I going to arrange to drug them, so they're asleep when we go in, on this short a notice?"

"You won't be able to do that," Peter agreed. "But if you move quickly, you should be able to use a stun gun, so he won't get a chance to see anything useful. Then you can blindfold him for the trip out here. The next victim's Joseph Galvin, and you've already done all the preliminary research and surveillance on his place. It shouldn't be that difficult for you to get him tonight."

Barker couldn't really argue with that, since everything Peter had said was true. "What about getting the room ready?" he asked, still looking for a way out of hurrying into the next kidnapping. He didn't know why, but for some reason it just seemed as if stepping up the schedule was a mistake.

"Leave Garrison here with me when you take Carter back and go to get Galvin. He can help me swap out the furnishings, to make the room ready for a male inhabitant. I've already purchased most of the books, magazines, and personal items we'll be needing; it helps that he's the same size as the first man we took, so the clothes won't be a problem. You and I can go over his information together in a few moments, look at what I've already gotten, and see if we need to get anything else. One of your men can pick it up for us on their way out here tonight," Peter said reasonably.

"What about keeping our eyes on Gibbs and his team?" David asked.

"We still need to do that, no doubt," Peter agreed. "But the question of whether Gibbs is on the case has pretty well been answered. Now we need to see how close he's getting, and talk about ways to slow him down. Richard managed to get his and DiNozzo's cell phone numbers, so Sylvia can now keep track of them electronically, so you don't have to be actively tailing him. We'll have an emergency meeting out here tomorrow, after Carter's been released, and Galvin is safely ensconced in the room, and we'll figure out exactly what to do then."

"And Langer and Merit, not to mention the girl?" David asked.

"What's the point of worrying too much about them now?" Peter asked dryly. "They already know who you are. I assume you have several false identities already established?" he asked Barker.

"Yeah, I've got three I can activate with no real problem," he admitted.

"Well, you're going to need them, especially when all our business is concluded. I think it's safe to say that David Barker is now effectively dead," Phelps announced.

"Yeah, let's just make sure that doesn't happen literally," David muttered.

"That's what I'm trying to do," Phelps pointed out.

Phelps and Barker spent the rest of the afternoon reviewing the information they'd gathered on Joseph Galvin. Galvin worked for a firm called Pursell and White, a small company that made three components critical to most modern network computer systems. So, although the firm was relatively small, they were making money hand over fist, and Galvin, who was in charge of the corporate relations department, had been instrumental in their success. Over the past month, Barker and the team had learned more about Galvin's personal likes and interests than most of his close friends were likely to know. Thanks to Sylvia, they knew what websites he went to on a regular basis, what type of music he listened to, and even what sports teams he followed. Barker had broken in to his house, and inventoried his taste in literature, movies, personal hygiene products, supplements and vitamins, and had even checked his TiVo to see what television shows he enjoyed. Similar, and in some cases, identical, items had been procured, and were now sitting in the storage room in the plantation house, just waiting to be moved into the 'guest room', in anticipation of Galvin's arrival. Now all they needed was for night to fall, and Melissa Carter to go to sleep.

Joe White, Steve Holmes and Marty Franklin, three of Barker's men arrived at the house by seven that evening. Phil Garrison, the last of Barker's crew, had already been there, as it was his day to keep an eye on Melissa Carter. David briefed his men on the plans to return Carter to her home, and then make the twenty minute trip to Galvin's home, where David and Joe White would quietly break in and get their next quarry. Marty Franklin would stay in the car, and Phil Garrison would remain behind in Virginia, to lend Phelps a hand in preparing the room. All of the items Carter had used would need to be removed, and anything not recyclable for their purposes, would be boxed up for charity and stowed out of the way. The room would undergo a gender change, and the items that had been earmarked specifically for Galvin would be moved in. Phelps figured he and Garrison would have about three hours to achieve this, while Barker and his other three men carried out their portion of the mission. Then everyone would spend the night at the house, since it would be too late to go back to their respective homes.

Phelps prepared Melissa's bedtime snack himself that night. Part of keeping the captives calm was establishing a routine – breakfast, lunch and dinner all served at exactly the same time each day, and a bedtime snack each night. Carter was given a cup of tea, and some fruit and cheese each night, the very same things they knew she indulged in when at home. Tonight, Phelps dropped two sleeping pills into her tea. The narcotics were strong enough to ensure that when she went to sleep that night, she would remain so for at least eight more hours, regardless of how much she was jostled about as they moved her back to her own house. When she was asleep, Barker and his men suited up in their black jumpsuits, added black ski-masks and gloves, entered the room and carefully changed her back into the pajamas she'd been wearing when they'd first taken her, then they carried her out to the van and placed her in the back. It would take them a little over an hour to reach her sleepy little suburban neighborhood, and they'd timed it so they would pull into her driveway at around 0100 – late enough for most of the neighbors to be asleep, but not so late that a vehicle travelling down the lanes in the neighborhood would immediately put an observer on alert.

When they got to Melissa's home, Barker climbed into the back of the van and gently eased her into a sitting position. Then, sliding the side door open, he climbed out and reached back in to get the sleeping woman, throwing one of her arms over his shoulder and gripping her firmly around the waist. Although he was literally carrying her in this position, to a casual observer it would look like a friend assisting either a drunk or ill woman into the house. He had taken her key ring when they kidnapped her, and this was what he used to get her into the house. Once the door was shut behind him, he swooped her up into his arms and carried her up the stairs to her bedroom. After pulling the covers back with one hand, he set her down in the bed and reached into one of the zipped pockets on his jumpsuit and withdrew the computer printed message Phelps had prepared, and safety pinned it to the front of her pj's, then he drew the covers up over her and turned to leave, dropping her keys on the bedside table as he left.

Joseph Galvin's house was only fifteen miles away from Melissa Carter's. Like her, he lived in a small suburban development, in a house that was far too big for one person, even though he lived alone. Galvin had bought the house several years ago, back when he still had a wife; now, twelve years later and three years divorced, it was just easier to stay there than move to somewhere smaller in the city. That was actually one of the reasons Phelps had selected him – no wife or children to miss him when he disappeared. The houses in his subdivision were separated by at least an acre apiece; they weren't like the Macmansions being built now, large homes on tiny plots. The houses were surrounded by mature trees and bushes, and it took real effort to see into your neighbors' yard. Barker had liked the layout the first time he'd seen it. If they had to grab someone without as much planning as he would have liked, Barker consoled himself with the knowledge that it was Galvin's house they were breeching.

When they got there, Barker reached under his seat and took out the stun gun he'd stashed there right before they left Phelps'. The plan was for him and Joe White to go in through the back, while Holmes and Franklin kept a watch on the neighborhood, for any possible witnesses. They were all armed with walkie-talkies, so they could alert each other to any problems they encountered.

"I don't like this," White said to Barker as they got ready to get out.

"You're not being paid to like things," Barker snapped at him, not happy about the fact that White was verbalizing what he'd been silently thinking for the last several hours. "You get paid to follow orders, not think."

"Whatever," White muttered. "Let's get this over with."

"No talking until after we've zapped him," Barker reminded White.

"How do we know his heart isn't going to give out, when we hit him?" White asked.

"Phelps checked over his medical records. He's in perfect health. It'll be fine," Barker assured him, as he opened the door and crept out, White right behind him.

They made their way around to the back, using the bushes for cover, and then Barker slid his lock pick in the door, to let them in. David had been in the house several times already, making sure he knew the shortest path to the master bedroom, so he quickly led the way up to the bedroom, the stun gun already pulled out and ready to use. When they got to the bedroom he was momentarily confused when he looked at the empty bed in front of him. The covers were pulled back, but Galvin wasn't there. Looking to his left, he saw that the door to the en suite bathroom was closed, and a shaft of light was shining through the crack. 'This is just great,' he thought to himself. Frantically motioning to the door, he began to back out of the room, right as the bathroom door was opening.

"What the hell?" Galvin exclaimed, as he saw darkly clad men standing in front of him. He was just about to turn around and rush back into the bathroom, when Barker tackled him, shoving the stun gun to his neck and pulling the trigger and holding the gun there for several seconds, while the electricity pulsed through Galvin's body. When Galvin stopped moving, Barker removed the gun and pulled a gag and blindfold out of his pockets, quickly putting them on the fallen man. He then reached into another pocket, pulling out a pair of handcuffs, which he fastened around Galvin's wrists. This wasn't the way he had wanted to do this. It was supposed to be easy in and easy out, instead they had a victim who would wake up in a panic, and who knew what the fuck he'd do?

"When we get to the van, I want you to tie up his ankles and put the ear plugs in his ears. I don't trust these stun guns. I'm not sure he'll stay out the whole way back," Barker ordered White.

"Do you want me to zap him again, if he starts to come around?" White asked.

"Not unless we have to," Barker answered. Phelps had said Galvin would be fine if they shocked him with the gun, but no one had discussed multiple uses. He wasn't willing to lose another target; they were already down one million apiece because of Nussbaum, and his stupid assed boss. "Grab his feet," he instructed, as he reached under the man's arms, preparing to lift him up. Together they carried him down to the back door, where White let Galvin's legs down, and took him from Barker, tossing the unconscious man over his shoulder. Holmes had seen them coming, and had the side door to the van open and waiting when they got there. Tossing Galvin in, White climbed in beside him, while Barker slid into the front passenger seat. "Let's get the hell out of here," he said to Franklin.

As he backed the van out of the drive, Franklin glanced over at Barker, who sat silent and rigid beside him. "How'd it go?" he asked.

"About the same way everything else has gone lately," Barker replied.

* * *

While things had been ramping into high gear for Phelps and Barker, Tony and Gibbs had been trying to decompress. They'd grabbed some Chinese on their way to Gibbs' house, fully intending to have a beer, eat, maybe watch some television, and call it a night. They'd been going since before four that morning, and they were both beginning to drag. When they pulled into the drive, Gibbs commented, "We should probably take both cars tomorrow."

"Worried someone will figure things out?" Tony asked, only partially serious.

"No," Gibbs said. "If us being in the same car was going to tip anyone off, it would have happened years ago. I think we're likely to have to split up tomorrow. I want to talk to Michael Weiss in the morning, and I think Ziva might be the best person to accompany me, especially if Fornell is right about Weiss having ties with the Mossad, so I'll need my car."

"Is Weaver still pissed at you?" Tony teased, referring to the man who controlled NCIS' fleet of cars. Gibbs had torn out the transmission on one of the company Chargers last week in a car chase, his second that month, and Weaver had threatened to never let him take another car from the pool.

"No DiNozzo," Gibbs had answered, letting Tony know he didn't appreciate the reminder by calling him by his last name. "I thought we might get done at different times tomorrow night, and neither of us would want to be stuck waiting around for the other one."

"Always thinking, must be why you're the boss," Tony said with a grin, as he grabbed the bag of food, and got out. As he headed for the door, with Gibbs coming up behind him, he announced, "Last one in does the dishes," as he sprinted on ahead.

Gibbs was laughing as he came into the house. When the door shut, Tony pushed him up against the door and kissed him soundly. "What is it about Chinese food that always makes you horny?" Gibbs asked, when they broke apart from each other.

"I don't know," Tony answered. "Why is it you always suggest we pick it up?" he countered.

"Sometimes I wonder the same thing," Gibbs said with a smirk, as he stepped around Tony and headed for the kitchen.

They ended up dividing the food between two plates, grabbing a beer apiece, and carrying it all to the den, so that they could watch the news as they ate. When the food was gone and the news was over, Tony reached over for the controller. "Movie or the boat?" he asked.

"Too tired to work on the boat tonight," Gibbs answered. "How about we clean up down here, and watch something on the upstairs television?" he suggested, smiling to himself. It hadn't been too many years ago that the only television he had in his house was an old black and white, that only got two channels, and that was with the help of a clothes hanger antennae. Now, he had a small portable color television in the basement, a large plasma screen in the den, and a combination VCR/DVD/TV in the bedroom. Tony may not have exactly brought high culture into his life, but he'd certainly pushed him into the electronic age.

"Sounds like a plan. I'll even help you with the dishes," he offered magnanimously. "Of course, that will mean it's your turn again next time."

"DiNozzo, we had Chinese that we ate on paper plates with chopsticks," Gibbs pointed out, as he reached over and smacked the back of Tony's head gently.

"You know, I think you're right," Tony said, affecting a stunned expression. "Guess that means the next two times will be your turn, since I offered to help this time, even though it turned out you didn't need my help."

Gibbs was laughing as he leaned over and tackled Tony, pressing his arms into the couch and hovering over Tony's face. "Want to rethink that?" he growled.

"If I say yes, does that mean you'll let me go?" Tony asked.

"Probably," Gibbs allowed.

"Then no," Tony said, as he thrust his hips up to meet Gibbs'.

Gibbs groaned and said, "Twice in one day? I'm an old man, Tony."

"Didn't seem so old to me this morning," Tony answered, as he lifted up his head to nip at Gibbs' chin.

Gibbs pressed down harder on Tony's arms, and leaned down, kissing Tony in earnest. As he eased his body down on top of Tony's, Tony opened his mouth to allow Gibbs' tongue entrance. The kiss, or rather, the series of kisses went on for some time, and they were both breathless when Gibbs released Tony's mouth and arms, so he could slide a hand between them, up and under Tony's shirt until his fingers found their target, Tony's right nipple. As he tweaked and caressed, he let his mouth slide down Tony's face and onto his neck, his other hand sliding under Tony's neck and up into his hair. He loved Tony's hair, always had, and could spend hours just sliding his fingers through it, content just to feel the soft strands tickle the underside of his fingers and palms. He also liked the soft, almost purring sound Tony made, as his nails grazed his scalp; it was a pure sound, uncensored and totally spontaneous, a sound he wasn't even sure Tony was aware he made, and therefore all the more special.

"It reminds me of the first time," Tony breathed softly.

"What?" Gibbs asked, confused by what Tony was talking about.

"Chinese food – it reminds me of the first time," Tony said, as he slid his arms around Gibbs, and pressed him closer to him. When Gibbs let his hand slid down to Tony's groin, tracing his fingers around Tony's genitals, Tony continued, panting slightly between phrases. "Spilled rice………ummm……….broken plates………oh God………very hot sex." He moaned the last words because Gibbs had closed his hand around where Tony's cock was pressing insistently against his jeans, begging for release.

Gibbs felt himself harden as Tony talked, the memory of that first night in Tony's apartment vividly coming back to him. Suddenly groping and teasing wasn't enough, as all the need he'd felt that night so long ago washed back over him, threatening to drown him in desire. Releasing Tony, he sat up enough that he could get both hands free, and he quickly unfastened the jeans that Tony was wearing and yanked them off his body. Then he stood, and as he was unfastening his own pants he went over to the bookcase, and reached up into a pewter mug with the Marine Corps' insignia on it, and pulled out a tube of lube. This wasn't the first time they hadn't made it to the bedroom. He slid his own pants and boxers off when he returned to the couch, and using his body, he pushed Tony's legs apart. Tony lay watching him through half slit eyes, his breath coming in starts and stops, anticipation writ large on his face, and just the merest suggestion of a self satisfied smirk.

Gibbs leaned over and sucked on Tony's lower lip, rolling it between his teeth before he settled back down to serious kissing. Tony slid his hands up and under the polo Gibbs still had on, letting his fingers run up and down his spine as they kissed, his hips slowly undulating against Gibbs'. When Tony's fingers worked their way lower, across the soft skin of Gibbs' ass, tracing along the outside of his crack, Gibbs couldn't wait any longer. Reaching up, he opened the lube and coated the fingers on his right hand. Then he pulled up enough to reach between them once again, this time sliding his hand down beneath Tony's balls, searching for his opening. "I love Chinese food," he said, just before he pushed two lube slicked fingers into Tony, and leaned back down to kiss him again. They didn't speak again, as Gibbs continued to open him up and then finally push himself into Tony's warmth. They didn't need to; seven years hadn't diminished their passion for each other. If anything, it had intensified it. There wasn't the thrill of exploration anymore, but it had been replaced by the more deeply felt comfort and satisfaction they found in the simple act of love making. Yet they still had the capacity to surprise one another. For seven years Gibbs had never known that Tony associated Chinese food with the first time they'd made love, and he kissed him again, wanting to offer physical thanks for the revelation. They were positioned, cheek to cheek when Tony came, the rippling of his muscles dragging Gibbs' own orgasm from his body. As they lay there, sticky and panting, pressed together, Gibbs thought about how lucky he was to have this, to have Tony in his life. Maybe they didn't whisper sweet nothings to each other, but there was no mistaking how they felt.

"So, shower first, and then a movie?" Tony asked, after he'd pressed a kiss to Gibbs' forehead.

"As long as it's one I can sleep through," Gibbs answered as he pushed himself off Tony, and reached out a hand to help him up. "The dishes can wait until tomorrow," he said with a smile, then kissed Tony again before he reached over and turned off the lamp on the table next to the couch.


	13. Chapter 13

"**A Friend in Need" – Chapter Thirteen**

Melissa Carter rolled over in her bed, only partially awake, and reached for Jeff. It didn't matter how many months he had been gone, she still started every day reaching out to him. When her hand connected with nothing but the soft cool cotton of their bedding, she sighed in disappointment, and rolled back on to her other side. Suddenly, her eyes flew open. She'd just reached for Jeff – something she hadn't done for the past week and a half. Then she registered on what she was facing, her very own nightstand, alarm clock, and bed lamp! Suddenly, she was wide awake. Her eyes flew around her bedroom, and an overwhelming feeling of relief flooded her body as she realized she was home. Home!

Once she had convinced herself that it wasn't an illusion, her joy was short lived as she heard a rustling sound when she sat up, and looked down to discover a piece of paper pinned to her pajama top, a top she had not gone to bed in, she realized with horror. Leary of putting fingerprints on what would probably be considered evidence, she slowly got up and moved towards the bathroom. Once there, she reached into the cabinet under the sink and pulled out a pair of rubber gloves she used when cleaning, and after donning them, carefully unpinned the note so she could read it. It was only four lines, but her hand began to tremble as she read them.

_**Contact Henry Goldblume, immediately.  
Tell no one of what happened while you were gone.  
You willingly forfeit your life if you contact the authorities.  
Enjoy the rest of your life, Mrs. Carter.  
**_  
She began to shake in earnest as she was hit by realization after realization. 'I've been drugged. They undressed and redressed me. They're still threatening me, even now that I'm free. I need to call the police, or FBI, or someone. Henry must be worried sick.' All of those different thoughts fought for dominance, but the last one was the easiest to address. She did need to call Henry, right now, to let him she was safe, and to thank him for paying whatever had been asked in ransom. Having something concrete to do seemed to reduce her inner quaking, and she nodded firmly to her reflection in the mirror, then returned to the bedroom to call.

When Henry answered Melissa was so happy to hear his voice, she lost hers for a moment. After the second, rather annoyed, "Hello?" she was finally able to respond, although the quiver in her voice shocked her.

"Henry, its Mel. I'm ok....I'm home."

"Melissa, thank god, thank god!! I'm on my way, don't go anywhere, I'll be there in half an hour."

"I won't, " Melissa answered, her voice getting stronger now that she was actually in contact with someone she trusted.

"I'm on my way, Melissa, goodbye." Henry hung up, then immediately placed another call, to the corporate security firm Michael Weiss had recommended. When Agent Gibbs had left yesterday, he'd decided he would cooperate with NCIS once Melissa was back safe and sound, provided she agreed, but he wasn't going to allow anything else to happen to her. Therefore, he'd arranged to have bodyguards surrounding Melissa 24/7 until the kidnappers had been caught. Gibbs had seemed extremely competent, but he wasn't going to take any more risks.

Talking to Henry, however briefly, seemed to energize Melissa. He would be there soon, and after that would come the authorities. She got up, and hurried downstairs, moving purposefully towards her kitchen. She opened a drawer and pulled out a box of plastic bags, and carefully slid the note inside, sealing the bag. She placed it on the kitchen table, then got the coffee maker going. Once the smell of fresh brewed coffee was wafting through the room, she found two large plastic bags in another box, and hurried back upstairs. Rushing into the bathroom, she stripped off her pajamas, and placed the top and the bottom in separate bags. She doubted there would be any forensic evidence to be found on them, but just in case anyone asked for them, she intended to have them ready.

Ten minutes later she was showered, teeth brushed, and hair combed. She ran through her morning routine at a rapid clip, including drying her hair, kept short for convenience sake, and applying the minimum amount of make-up needed to add some color to her pale skin. She then rushed into the bedroom and briefly pondered what to put on. The day would most likely be spent speaking to law enforcement people, and she wanted to look professional, but be comfortable at the same time. To that end, she chose a simple pants suit and low heeled pumps, thinking that would probably carry her through any contingency.

After she was dressed, Melissa gathered the two plastic bags, and proceeded back down to the kitchen, in need of a fortifying cup of coffee before Henry arrived. She had no doubt he had been frantic with worry for her safety. The man could be as cold and hard a business man as she had ever seen, but when it came to 'his' people, he was very protective, and treated all of his employees with respect and dignity. In his own way, he was a chauvinist. He never discriminated based on gender when it came to work, but he still treated women as special, as deserving of respect and courtesy above and beyond that shown to the men in his employee. It was actually kind of nice in an old fashioned way, since it never interfered with work, and she was living proof of that truth, as she was the Vice President of Development. Melissa liked her job, and loved her employer. He wasn't just her boss, he had become her friend, and fortunately, her husband also got along very well with Henry. They golfed together occasionally, and played poker every once in a while. Melissa considered herself fortunate to have a boss as caring as Henry, and if he had just paid a ransom to get her back, she owed him a huge vote of thanks.

Placing the two plastic bags containing the pajamas on the table, along with the one containing the note, she moved toward the coffee maker, truly craving a caffeine jolt to help her focus. Standing at the kitchen counter, she drank her first cup of coffee as a free woman, and reveled in the joy of being in her own home, in her own kitchen, with no masked men with voice synthesizers playing waiter. Just as she finished the coffee, her front doorbell sounded, followed rapidly by heavy knocking. Hurrying to the door, she looked through the peephole, and quickly slid the chain off the door, then unlocked it and threw it open. As soon as the door was open, Henry was through it, pulling her into his arms, and hugging her to him. She felt a kiss against her temple, and then another squeeze, before she was finally released, and able to look into Henry's eyes. Glancing behind him, she saw several armed men, and she stiffened, her eyes flying up to meet Henry's again.

"What's going on? Who are they?" she asked anxiously.

"They're bodyguards, Mel, and we'll talk about it, but first, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Henry, really. I'm so happy to be home, and so happy to see you, I can't begin to tell you. Come in, come in, and... I guess, your bodyguards should come in, too."

After the men had entered, the last one through closed the door and re-locked it. The men dispersed through the house, clearing the rooms and checking doors and windows to ensure everything was locked up tight. After a few minutes, they all reassembled in the kitchen, where Melissa and Henry had headed while they were checking out the house. Melissa had offered Henry coffee, and poured another cup for herself, then headed over to the table with Henry. They were both seated when the spokesman for the bodyguards entered the kitchen and said to Henry, "All clear, Mr. Goldblume. I'm going to set up a perimeter around the house, and leave someone in the foyer, in case you need anything." With no further discussion, the man exited the room, leaving Mel looking after him and shaking her head.

"Since when do you travel with a phalanx of bodyguards, Henry?" Melissa asked, bemused.

"They're not for me, Mel, they're for you. I just got you back, and I'm not taking any chances on anyone taking you away again," he responded quietly.

She started to shake her head and offer up objections, but then she remember the note, and her reaction to it, and suddenly the thought of armed men surrounding her for protection didn't seem so preposterous. Henry watched the emotions chase across her face, and waited until she had thought the idea through, then saw her nod her head, as though she had reached a decision.

"That might prove to be necessary, because I want to contact the authorities, and report what happened. They left a note," she said, indicating the plastic encased piece of paper on the table.

Henry reached for it, and after reading it, his face hardened, and he said, "I've been contacted by NCIS. You're not the first person these people took, and somehow they knew you had been taken. I refused to cooperate with them until you were back, and I knew you were safe. If you want to talk to someone, I know who to call, but it's up to you. The guards stay, here, at work, everywhere you go, until these bastards are caught. I want them caught, Mel, and I'm willing to do whatever we have to help, but I'm not willing to have to tell Jeff that I allowed his wife to be killed by doing the right thing. That is not going to happen."

Melissa looked at Henry for a full minute, then she nodded her head, "Ok, the guards stay, and I'll cooperate with them, if for no other reason, than I owe you my life. Thank you for paying the ransom, and thank you for caring enough to provide bodyguards. That doesn't seem adequate for all you've been through, and all this has cost you, but I mean it sincerely, thank you, Henry, for saving my life."

He shook his head, marveling at her for being grateful, when she should have been furious that the job he provided had caused her to be kidnapped, and her life put in jeopardy. He knew she would never see it that way, but that was how he saw it, and he was going to keep her safe from now on. That vow would not be broken. He agreed with Michael Weiss, if the law enforcement community couldn't catch these bastards, then maybe it was time for private citizens to start protecting their own. He didn't say any of that, just looked at Melissa, and felt great relief to see her in front of him, safe and sound.

He felt compelled to ask her, since the bags of evidence were sitting right in front of them, "Do you want me to call NCIS? I'll stay with you, and I want to hear what happened, too, so if we're calling them, I'll wait until they get here, and you'll only have to go through it once."

"Absolutely! I have no intention of honoring that order. It was given to intimidate me into not reporting the crime, and that is not going to happen. I will not be frightened into keeping quiet. I was going to call the police, but NCIS actually makes more sense. I'm the wife of a Marine, and they would be the ones with jurisdiction. Do you know how they found out I had been taken?"

"They wouldn't divulge that information, but they knew a lot, and weren't too happy with me when I refused to cooperate until I had you back. They'll be right over, as soon as I call them, that I do know."

"Ok, make the call. In the meantime, I'm starving, and I doubt I still have anything edible in the house, so.... I guess I can't run out to the store without taking armed bodyguards, so how do we get something for breakfast?"

Chuckling, Henry suggested, "Call in an order, and use my name, not yours. We'll send one of the guys to pick it up, and that way, we're sure it won't be tampered with, and you'll get to eat. Then make a list, and we'll send someone to a grocery store, how's that sound?"

Melissa was already moving to get her take-out menus. She had never ordered take-out food for breakfast before, but hey, at this point, her stomach was loudly protesting being ignored, and she was willing to do anything to appease it.

When Melissa rose from the table, Goldblume pulled the business card left by Special Agent Gibbs from his pocket, and quickly dialed the number for his cell written on the back. When it was answered, he began, "Good morning, Special Agent Gibbs, this is Henry Goldblume. I'm sitting in Melissa Carter's kitchen, and we would both like to speak with you. How soon can you get here?"

* * *

Gibbs and his entire team were standing in Abby's lab when Goldblume called. It was 0700 and they had been discussing how best to proceed. There had been no hits on the BOLO for Barker during the night, and the two person team assigned to watch the exterior of his house had had no movement either. Abby was continuing to watch the various banking accounts of the executives she and McGee had isolated as potential targets, and planned to try working with Courtney Kreiger again later in the day to see if she had remembered anything new about the other men that had accompanied Barker when they ambushed the FBI surveillance team. Ziva and McGee were going to start investigating the daily routines of the potential victims, trying to see if there were patterns that made one person a more likely target than another, looking for anything that might make the kidnappers choose one person over another, and Tony and Gibbs were planning on stopping in to see Fornell to find out what was going on with the FBI's investigation into Friday's events. No one was particularly happy, although all of these things needed doing, it almost felt like busy work - as if they were in a holding pattern, waiting for something new, either good or bad, to happen.

When Gibbs' phone rang, everyone in the room watched expectantly while Gibbs talked. When he said, "We'll be there in twenty five minutes," and hung up, no one made a sound, sure that something had broken on the case. "That was Goldblume. Melissa Carter's home and wants to talk. I'm heading over there right now. DiNozzo, you're with me. Let's get a move on it people. I want some answers," he said as he headed for the door.

Goldblume's call seemed to dispel all of the lethargy the others had been feeling, and the room snapped into action. Tony hurried after Gibbs, and McGee prepared to print out the list of potential targets, their addresses, and their places of employment. Ziva went to get a car for her and McGee, and within four minutes Abby was once again alone in her lab, absorbed in her own computer searches.

* * *

David Barker was in the black van, its sides now decorated with logos for 'Lawn Order' - a lawn care service, as it sat parked in the driveway of a house that was for sale, three quarters of a block down from Melissa Carter's home. They always watched the home of their last target after they returned them, to make sure they heeded the warning on the note pinned to their nightwear. David hadn't been all that surprised when Goldblume had arrived, accompanied by four men who were obviously bodyguards; he wasn't the first CEO who felt the need to protect the person they'd just invested five million dollars into getting back. Bodyguards were just fine; it wasn't as if they had any intention of ever approaching those people again anyway. He'd watched with approval when the guards set up perimeter surveillance around the house, since that was exactly what he would have done, and had almost lost interest when he saw a black Charger pull up in front of the house. He watched in horror as Jethro Gibbs and Tony DiNozzo climbed out, and headed for the front door. The fact that the bodyguards didn't challenge them served to further agitate him, since that meant they had been expected. For the second time in as many days, David found himself on the phone with Peter, informing him of Gibbs' interference.

This time Phelps seemed as shaken as David. "Get your ass back here, and I'll call everybody else. We need to have a meeting now, this can't wait until tonight. Don't say anything about this to the others until we're all together. The last thing we need is for someone to panic and do something stupid."

David didn't need to be told twice. He backed the van out of the drive and headed for Calverton as fast as he dared. Phelps spent the next five minutes calling everyone else on the team, insisting they drop whatever they were doing, and get out to the house as fast as possible. DeAngelo had resisted, telling Peter it was difficult for him to get away in the middle of the morning, but Peter hadn't been willing to hear it. His response was to tell DeAngelo to fake an illness or whatever it would take to get away, but then Peter refused to elaborate further on what the problem was when asked, saying it would keep until DeAngelo got there. When Phelps hung up, he began to think about what their options were, wanting to have a plan firmly in place before any of the others arrived.

* * *

A tall, muscular man answered the door at Melissa Carter's, and greeted them by saying, "Hello, I assume you're Agent Gibbs and one of his team members, but you can understand why I'll need to see some ID." Once he carefully examined both Tony's and Gibbs' IDs and badges, he stepped aside to allow them entrance. After he'd carefully locked the front door, he led them through the house to the kitchen, where Melissa and Henry were just finishing what looked like bagels and fruit cups.

Goldblume rose when the agents entered, and held out his hand. "Agents Gibbs and DiNozzo. Thank you for coming so promptly. I'd like to introduce you to Ms. Melissa Carter," then looking at Melissa, he said, "Melissa, this is Agent Gibbs and Agent DiNozzo, from NCIS, the two gentlemen I was telling you about."

"Pleasure, Ma'am," Gibbs said, and Tony nodded his hello. "I'm certainly glad to see you back, safe and sound." Then, looking at Goldblume, he asked, "I assume you're responsible for the body guard? Probably a good idea, considering."

"There are four of them. It was Michael Weiss' idea, actually," Goldblume admitted, "but I didn't get to be a CEO by ignoring good advice when I hear it. I suspect you know who Weiss is," Goldblume stated, trying to gage just how much Gibbs really knew about what was going on.

"I'm aware of him, yes," Gibbs acknowledged, not wanting to go into much more detail in front of Melissa. She'd been through enough already, and didn't need to hear about another kidnapping victim who hadn't been as lucky as herself. Not right then, at any rate.

Melissa had been listening to the exchange, and was aware they were both refraining from going in to details about something involving Michael Weiss, but decided to let it go for the moment. There would be plenty of time to ask questions of her own, once she'd told her story, and given NCIS the artifacts she'd so carefully tried to preserve earlier. "May I get you both some coffee, before we begin?" she asked. When both Tony and Gibbs took her up on the offer, she got two more mugs and spoons and brought them over to the table, where a carafe of coffee and cream and sugar sat. Indicating they should help themselves, she went back to the counter and got the plastic bags which held the note and her pajamas. Once they were all seated, she began to tell her tale.

As they sat and listened, Gibbs, Tony and Goldblume were stunned by the level of preparedness the kidnappers had shown. It was one thing to know a target's daily schedule, that was to be expected, but to know such intimate details, like the type of vitamins they took, or the type of music preferred, the books they read, was quite another thing. They had clearly examined their marks under a microscope before they made their move; it was going to be very difficult to catch people who were this careful and prepared. Gibbs had accepted the evidence Carter had bagged for them, thanking her profusely for her forethought, even though he privately suspected there wouldn't be a shred of forensic evidence to be found. Gibbs had produced a picture of David Barker, and asked Melissa if he looked familiar, but after studying it for several minutes, much to her dismay, she was forced to admit he didn't. They had just about finished when Abby had called, asking Gibbs to get a sample of Carter's hair, in the hopes she would be able to learn something about where the woman had been kept when she ran a chemical analysis on it, telling him something about water supplies and unique signatures, which hadn't meant that much to him. Melissa had readily agreed, however, eager to do anything she could to help NCIS find the people responsible. As they had talked, it had come out that she was not the only person this had happened to, and her sense of outrage had only grown, although neither Gibbs nor Goldblume, mentioned Nussbaum, and what had happened to him.

When they were basically done, Goldblume observed that Melissa looked exhausted, and suggested she go upstairs and take a short nap, saying he would see Gibbs and DiNozzo out. Melissa, who had been running on adrenaline since waking, was forced to agree with him. Now that she had told the NCIS agents all she knew, she felt drained, and the shaky feeling she'd had earlier had returned. As she went up the stairs, Goldblume accompanied Tony and Gibbs to the front door.

"What do you think your chances are of finding these bastards?" Goldblume asked Gibbs after they had stepped outside.

"I won't lie to you," Gibbs answered, "so far they haven't made many mistakes. The more we know about each of the kidnappings the better. I want to talk to Weiss next, maybe he'll have something new to add to all of this. But we'll get them, eventually. Make no mistake about that," he assured Goldblume.

"Do you want me to go with you when you see Weiss? He doesn't have the highest opinion of law enforcement at the moment," Goldblume offered.

"That would be great," Gibbs said. "We have a Mossad liaison officer on our team, and I thought I'd take her with me. Maybe he could see us in a couple of hours?"

"Let me call him," Goldblume said. "I'll make sure he'll see you. How does eleven o'clock work for you?"

"That would be fine. Give me a call if he can't see us then, otherwise I'll meet you at his office at 1100," Gibbs said, as he held out his hand to Goldblume.

"I'm counting on you," Goldblume said gravely, as he shook the proffered hand.

* * *

By the time the others had arrived at the plantation, Peter had worked out a solution to their problem. When he had analyzed what posed the real danger to them, he kept coming back to one person – Gibbs. The only real threat to their plans was Gibbs, so, if they could neutralize him, they could collect the ransom for Galvin, and move on to the next target. Peter figured that if they kept each of the new victims for one week only, in a month's time they would have reached their goal of ten million dollars each, less the $200,000 they had each put into the war chest after their first kidnapping to finance the whole operation. So the big question had become, how could they control Gibbs? He was sure he'd come up with a viable plan.

They all arrived separately, each demanding to know why he'd pushed the time for the meeting up, and none were happy when he refused to tell them anything until everyone arrived. David, who'd spent the last hour and a half pacing like a caged animal, had been sworn to silence by Peter, so when the others had asked him what he knew, he'd merely glared at Peter, and shrugged. By the time they were all there, and once again ensconced in the chairs around the dining room table, no one was saying much, the sense of foreboding having effectively made small talk impossible. Peter began the meeting by asking Sylvia to give them all an update on what had happened with the money transfer for Carter.

"Well, you all know that Nabscot transferred the five million into our account in the Caymans yesterday," she began. "I picked up a trace on their accounts, which I was able to track back to NCIS, so that answers the question of why Gibbs was at Henry Goldblume's apartment yesterday. I know they followed the money into our account, but there isn't any reason to worry. The bank doesn't know any of our identities, and even if they did, the Cayman Isles have a firm policy of not revealing any information about their account holders to anyone, no exceptions made. From there I bounced the money from account to account, finally settling it into the Swiss account, where all the rest of the funds are deposited. NCIS was able to follow me through three transfers, but I lost them before I got the money into the Swiss account. It'll be a dead end for them. They know the money was paid out, but they don't have any way of figuring out to whom."

"And you're sure about that?" Peter asked her to confirm.

"Absolutely," Sylvia said with no hesitation. "But NCIS is definitely on the case, and that worries me. Gibbs is known for not backing down once he starts an investigation. It was one of the things that appeared in his file, over and over again."

"We'll deal with that," Peter assured her. "Let's just move on to last night. As you all know, David picked up our next target, Joseph Galvin, after he and his men dropped Carter back at her home last night. That went fairly well."

"What do you mean, fairly well?" DeAngelo wanted to know. Of all those gathered there that day, he was probably the most tense. After all, he spent all day, every day, with FBI agents and the Metro Police.

"There was a slight tussle, and David had to use a stun gun to subdue Galvin. Not really a big deal," Peter answered, neglecting to mention the level of panic Galvin had exhibited when he'd awoken early this morning. He had actually been so panicked, that Peter had to resort to putting a sedative in the coffee White had brought into him on his first visit that morning. The last thing they needed was for Galvin to work himself up into a heart attack or stroke. DeAngelo made a discontented sound, and shook his head, but otherwise refrained from commenting on what Peter had told them.

"Our bigger concern right now, is NCIS and their involvement with the case. When David was watching Carter's house this morning, Gibbs and DiNozzo appeared not long after Goldblume. We don't have any way of knowing how they knew she was home, whether it was because she called them, or for some other reason, but that doesn't matter. The real issue is that NCIS seems to be all over this case, and we need to find some way to make them back off," Peter said, summing up why he'd called them all together, ahead of schedule.

"I think we might be wise to cut our losses and run," DeAngelo said. "We all have 4.8 million dollars each right now, which is a hell of a lot more than when we started. I say we collect the ransom on Galvin as fast as we can, and then close up shop. If we lay low, and David stays hidden, no one will ever figure it out. Then, in a few months, we can all take our money and quietly disappear."

Peter didn't like the fact that Jillian and Sylvia appeared to be in agreement, and David seemed to be torn. "There shouldn't be any reason to have to do that," he argued. "All we have to do is find a way to get Gibbs to back off for a month, then we can take our money, all ten million dollars of it, and disappear, and he can investigate all he wants."

"That's a great idea," Jillian said, "but how are you planning to get him to back off? Ask him nicely?" She was scared, and that always made her sharp tongued.

"Well, in a way," Peter told her with a smile. "Actually, I was thinking that Gibbs seems to have a pathological need to protect his people. That was exemplified in what you found in the files. So if we create a situation where the only way he can protect them is by leaving this investigation alone, then we should be fine."

"I don't think sending him a threatening note is likely to work," David growled snidely.

"Neither do I; that's why you're going to grab DiNozzo," Peter announced.

Everyone sat, stunned, while Peter's words sank in. "You've lost your mind!!!" DeAngelo finally broke the silence by announcing. "Gibbs will go crazy. There's no way he'll leave this alone if one of his people turns up missing. That will blow up in our faces. You've got a classic case of target fixation!"

"What in the hell does that mean?" Sylvia asked.

Jillian and David answered simultaneously, "It means when a pilot is so fixated on his target that he flies right into it."

Richard nodded his head in agreement with their definition. "That's what you're doing, by riling Gibbs up further. Besides, let's say you're right, which you're not, there are rules that would prevent him from just dropping a case because he decided it was inconvenient."

"Gibbs has already proven that he doesn't give a damn about NCIS' rules," Peter pointed out. "If we make him think that DiNozzo's life is at risk if he continues to pursue the case, he won't take the chance. After all, he was a Marine, and their motto is 'No man left behind.' We just need to make him believe that continuing on will guarantee that DiNozzo ends up dead. He's not going to do anything that puts one of his people in harm's way."

"We can't kill DiNozzo," Sylvia said quickly. "Remember what we learned about what happened when one of his other agents was shot. He killed the man that did it in his own basement, and nothing ever happened to him. They gave him a medal instead of investigating him for murder, and the same thing happened with the guy that killed his first wife and daughter."

"I'm not saying we kill him," Peter said impatiently. 'Aren't these people listening to me?' he wondered. "I said we need to make him think we're willing to kill him, not that we are going to kill him."

"And how do we do that?" David asked.

"Once we have DiNozzo, we tape him being beaten, and send the tape to Gibbs, with the warning that worse things will happen to his agent if he doesn't drop the investigation. He's not going to risk that; not if he thinks we're serious. He can do it; they've got their Marine wife back after all, so they don't have to keep pursuing the case. The FBI can follow up on what happened to the money, and we all know how ineffective they've been," Peter sneered.

"We don't even know how much they know already," DeAngelo argued. "We know they know about Goldblume and Weiss, but what if they've figured out more? There's no guarantee we'll be safe, even if Gibbs does back down, which I seriously doubt will happen."

"That's another reason to take DiNozzo," Peter pointed out, privately overjoyed that DeAngelo's argument had actually given him another rationale to push for his solution. "Once we have him, we can make him tell us exactly what NCIS and the FBI know. Then, if we don't like what he tells us, we can reassess our situation. It's the most sensible thing to do," he said fervently. "If you all are really that afraid of him, then we need to know exactly how close he is to discovering who we are, and do anything we can to stop him, even if we don't go after any more targets." He paused for a moment to let that sink in, then he said, "If any of you has a better solution for making him back down, I'm willing to listen."

The other four looked at each other, each privately hoping someone would have another plan, but no one spoke up. Peter waited for over a minute, wanting to seem democratic, and not wanting to give them an excuse to claim he'd forced them into the decision, before he said, "If no one has another plan, let's decide how this is going to happen. Sylvia, are you still able to track Gibbs and DiNozzo through the GPS locators in their cell phones?"

Sylvia just nodded, not yet ready to trust herself with speech.

"We need to take him when he's not with Gibbs," David quickly interjected. 'It was easy for Phelps to come up with this plan,' he thought to himself. 'He isn't the one sticking his neck out, and there is no way I'm going to get close to Jethro Gibbs. Nothing about this feels right.' He desperately wished he could come up with a different solution.

"Agreed," Phelps said. "That's why we need to monitor them, so we know when they aren't together. Then we grab DiNozzo the first chance we get. The sooner we do this, the sooner we know what's really going on, and the sooner we can decide how to proceed. Alright?" When the others reluctantly nodded, he continued. "Sylvia, you and Jillian should start tracking Gibbs and DiNozzo, and you, David, need to get your men together and head back to D.C. You want to be ready to strike the minute Sylvia gives you the go ahead. Richard, you need to just keep doing what you've been doing. Keep your ears open and stay as close to Fornell and his people as possible. If all goes well, they'll soon be our only concern."

"What are you planning on doing?" David wanted to know.

"I'm going to call Pursell, Galvin's boss, and let him know we have Galvin, and that we're asking for five million dollars in ransom. I'll tell him all the usual things, and warn him he only has until Friday to get the money together. That way he can transfer it on Saturday, and by next Sunday, we'll be that much richer."

It was a subdued group that drove away from the house in Calverton that afternoon. They had been uneasy when they'd arrived, and their unrest had certainly not been assuaged while there, but Peter had been the mastermind of the whole operation, and none of them felt as though they could completely overrule him. Besides that, he'd left them with an out. If they didn't like what they learned from DiNozzo, they could still call it quits. All they would have to do was kill DiNozzo, divide up the money they already had, and disappear.


	14. Chapter 14

"**A Friend in Need" – Chapter Fourteen**

Tony and Gibbs talked quietly in the car on the ride back to NCIS, the bags of evidence Melissa Carter had so carefully collected for them sitting on the back seat.

"Do you suppose Abby'll be able to get anything off of that stuff?" Tony asked.

"Doubtful," Gibbs answered. The kidnappers had been so careful to date, he didn't think they'd make an amateurish mistake now.

"Nothing she told us is really going to be that helpful," Tony said, venting his frustration with the brick walls they kept encountering. "Hopefully you'll get something more from Weiss, although I don't have high hopes."

"When we get back, I want McGee to work with Abby. Remember how Carter's assistant knew something was wrong when she saw there hadn't been activity on Carter's phone and credit cards? If they do the same kind of check on the potential targets, we should be able to tell if the kidnappers grab another victim, but it'll take both of them to do that."

"What do you want me to work on?" Tony asked.

"We need more info on Barker. I want you to canvas his neighbors, see what they know about him – where he worked, who he hung out with, what he did in his spare time – anything that might lead us to him. And Tony, I don't want you working this alone. I'm going to ask Fornell to send Templeton over. She's the only other person who's read into everything that's going on. You going to be okay with that?" Gibbs asked.

"I'm a big boy, Jethro," Tony said, and gave Gibbs a smile. "I'll be fine."

"You make sure that you are," Gibbs ordered him. "You can't afford to let her get under your skin again."

"I won't, promise. Should actually be kind of fun watching her boil as she has to follow my lead," he grinned impishly.

"Don't poke at her," Gibbs cautioned. "Snakes tend to strike when they're bothered."

"I'll try not to," Tony said. "Don't worry, it'll be fine."

'God, I hate it when he says that,' Gibbs thought to himself, already wondering if there wasn't some other solution to the problem, but he couldn't think of one. Teaming Tony with Templeton was preferable to sending him out alone – just barely. Deciding there wasn't anything more to say on the subject, he pulled out his cell phone and placed the call to Fornell. It took him a while to bring Tobias up to date, before asking for the loan of Templeton, which Fornell readily agreed to, promising to have her over at NCIS before noon.

* * *

Liz had been overjoyed when Morgan called her that morning. Vic was awake and able to see visitors, and the doctors were much more optimistic about Brent. Ed had said that if Liz got there when visiting hours started, she could have a few minutes with Vic, so it was a much happier Liz Templeton who walked into the waiting room at Bethesda, a few minutes before ten o'clock. Vic and Brent were getting better, and the Kreiger kid was also on the mend.

It still galled her that Courtney had gone to NCIS for help, to Gibbs' team, of all people, and she hoped that, once the kid was well, and back at work, Morgan and/or Fornell intended to have a serious talk with her about NOT going to other agencies for assistance without first clearing it with the Bureau. Really, why in the world would she think NCIS was in a better position to protect her than the FBI! 'That girl had a lot to learn about the pecking order, that's for sure,' she thought, as she greeted Morgan.

Her new, and improved attitude vanished however, when Morgan pulled her aside and quietly informed her that after her visit with Merit, he wanted her to head over to NCIS and work with Gibbs' team until further notice. She was so startled, she'd had to ask him to repeat himself, not sure she'd heard correctly. When he did, she'd had to work hard to keep her anger and disappointment from showing. She had agreed to be the go-between for NCIS and the FBI; she had NOT agreed to be loaned to NCIS, to Gibbs, for an unspecified period of time. She found it incomprehensible that the FBI was allowing NCIS to take over the investigation at all; now, now, she was being relegated to the status of TAD on Gibbs' team!! It wasn't fair. This was an FBI investigation, and they had paid for the right to run it with FBI agents' blood! What were Fornell and Morgan thinking? Had everyone lost their minds? Liz nodded her acknowledgement of Morgan's order, afraid to open her mouth, since she wasn't sure what would come pouring out. Damn it!! Now she would be stuck working with DiNozzo, and have to put up with Gibbs, who expected everyone around him to be a mind-reader! Damn, damn, damn!

After a too short visit with Merit, Liz had stiffly said her goodbyes to Morgan and driven over to the Naval Yard, silently cursing her superiors at the FBI. By the time she'd parked her car in the visitor's lot, her stomach was churning. Liz didn't want to be back here. From her perspective, NCIS represented her only professional failure, and having to set foot in the building again was humiliating. She was still brooding about the unfairness of the situation when she stepped into the lobby. She just couldn't believe Morgan was forcing her to work with Gibbs' 'team'; how embarrassing was that going to be? He had a whole team now? Wonder how long they'd been together? As that thought crossed her mind, she spotted DiNozzo at the snack kiosk in the NCIS lobby, and her hackles immediately rose as she saw him flirting with the woman who ran it, and joking with a couple of agents who were also buying coffee. Gritting her teeth, she decided to be the bigger woman, and just get through this ill-advised association as quickly and painlessly as possible, so she could get back to the FBI, where she belonged.

Tony was standing at the snack kiosk in the lobby, picking up Caf-Pow for Abby and McGee, as well as a couple of extra-large coffees, since he knew from experience that McGee needed both to concentrate. One coffee was for him, doctored to his taste, which included massive quantities of sugar and creamer, while McGee managed to drink black coffee, Gibbs-strength coffee, and enjoy it. Of all the things to have in common with their boss, that aspect of McGeek's personality took Tony by surprise. He also threw on the tray a couple of packages of cupcakes, and some of the over-sized cookies that were packed full of fat, sugar and other non-healthful ingredients, but were sinfully delicious, and totally irresistible. Yes, they were $1.50 per cookie, but he knew Abby and McGee loved the damn things, and since Abby would soon have to deal with Templeton, a little sugar in her system wouldn't hurt.

Carrying the two trays, one balanced atop the other, he headed back through the metal detector into the building, casually taking the ribbing from the guards on duty about spoiling Abby rotten. He had just passed through the gauntlet when he heard a voice he recognized calling his name. Stifling a sigh, he plastered on a smile, and turned to face Liz, waiting patiently as she showed her credentials and passed through the metal detector, then moved purposefully towards him. Her greeting was not unexpected, considering what he was carrying, but he had hoped she would be over the whole 'bait DiNozzo' routine by now. 'Apparently not,' he thought with another stifled sigh, as the first words out of her mouth were a continuation of what she's said in the Bethesda ICU waiting room.

"Gibbs must have really changed his requirements for Senior Agent if your primary responsibility is running for coffee and Abby's Caf-Pow, "she said snidely. Since she hadn't bothered to lower her voice when she made her comment, quite a few heads nearby had turned at her jibe, which elicited several frowns when people realized she was serious.

One of the people who overheard the comment, Director Jenny Shepard, narrowed her eyes as she sought to place where she seen the woman before, and suddenly it clicked in her head that this was FBI Agent Templeton, whom she had been introduced to by Tobias over at Bethesda's ICU Waiting Room. There wasn't any excuse for the overt antagonism the woman had just displayed, no matter the reason. Jenny was tired, she had spent several hours coordinating a take down of a terrorist cell in Bahrain, and had walked down to the kiosk to stretch her legs and pick up a cup of coffee to fortify her for the next several hours, while the debriefing of the captured terrorists would be on view in MTAC. Refereeing a pissing contest between an FBI agent and one of hers did not rank up there with one of her favorite pass times, but if Special Agent Templeton needed to be put in her place, then Jenny was in just the mood to do so. Raising her voice slightly, she called out, "Tony, hold the elevator, please." Carrying her coffee, she headed toward the waiting elevator, passing through security without being detained or asked for I.D. That was a breach of protocol, but Jenny caught the eye of the guard on duty, and he grinned as he ushered her through. He had seen the look cross her face that indicated she anticipated a fight, and he liked Tony, so he was all for siccing the Director on the FBI agent insulting one of theirs.

As Jenny entered the elevator, she nodded at Templeton, and looking over the trays Tony was carrying, she flashed a grin as she jokingly asked, "Sustenance for Abby?" Tony grinning back as he answered in the same vein, "And McGee. McGee had a brainstorm, big surprise there, and I figured they'd need fortification to sustain their mega-brains while they solve the case for us."

Jenny chuckled in response, but caught the grimace that passed over Templeton's face at Tony's answer. "Gibbs and Ziva are out interviewing Weiss, I take it. I'll ride down with you and get caught up on the progress they're making." Tony reached over and pushed the button for Abby's floor, while Jenny turned to Templeton, saying, "Special Agent Templeton, any word on Langer's and Merit's conditions?"

Liz had been trying to imagine ever having a similar conversation with Fornell, let alone the Director of the FBI, and was still coming to terms with the fact that the Director seemed so comfortable and friendly with DiNozzo. At Jenny's question directed towards her, she answered automatically, "Merit is awake and doing much better Director Shepard, and Langer's fever is still coming down, so the doctors are a lot more optimistic about his recovery." As an obvious afterthought, she added, "Thank you for asking, Ma'am." Jenny nodded, and turned towards Tony.

"Do you really think caffeine and sugar are the best things to be offering Abby when we need her to be able to sit in front of a monitor for hours?" she teased, continuing their banter.

"Come on, Jenny, this stuff is Abby's lifeblood. Would you deny her when she consistently pulls off miracles for us?"

Shaking her head, Jenny said, "That crap is the reason the guys in the mailroom call her 'Energizer Abby.' Try to get some real food in them, would you, please? I was down here the other night, and they honestly couldn't remember the last time they had eaten. I had to order them to take a break and move around, and get something to eat. I worry they'll lose focus if all they do is stare at their monitors for hours on end, and the only things they're putting in their bodies for fuel are sugar and caffeine."

Tony shrugged and said, "I'll try, Director, but they get going, and I hate to break their concentration. Gibbs gave them the same lecture yesterday morning. When we brought them breakfast, they inhaled it, and neither of them could answer when Gibbs asked them when they last ate anything. Abs hadn't even had a Caf-Pow for hours, so you know they were really into whatever it is they do with those computers of theirs."

The elevator dinged, and the doors opened. Their ears were assaulted by the noise Abby insisted was music, and they made their way towards her lab. Liz was still trying to grasp the fact that DiNozzo just called the Director of NCIS by her first name, and hadn't been slapped down for it, and then was even more shocked at the easy familiarity between the two. What was it about DiNozzo that let him get away with everything?

Her thoughts were so focused on DiNozzo, that she barely had time to process that she was being led to Abby's lab, another one who seemed to get away with anything she wanted. She was pampered and spoiled, and everybody kowtowed to the resident 'forensic genius' and praised her to high heaven. Forget that she dressed like a cross between a reject from a Halloween party gone wrong and a BDSM submissive, she was revered throughout NCIS for the 'miracles' she pulled off in her lab. Please. Any forensic scientist worth their salt could do what she did, and every other one Liz had ever met was calm, quiet, studious, and dressed like a professional. Yet here was the Director of NCIS worrying about her nutritional intake, and it appeared she too worshipped at the altar of Abby's greatness. How did these people function over here? Thank god she had gotten out when she did, and had gone to an agency where people knew how to behave appropriately in the workplace.

The three entered the lab, and the Director automatically lifted her hand to turn off Abby's portable stereo. Abby and McGee turned in unison, Abby's face lighting up when she saw what Tony was carrying. She immediately jumped off her stool and went flying across the room, grabbing one of the Caf-Pows and drinking a quarter of the huge drink before she came up for air. Tony grinning at her as he passed by, headed towards McGee. He held out the tray, offering him the other Caf-Pow, and the coffee he had brought down for him. "Thanks, Tony. We didn't want to stop, but we needed this," McGee said, grinning at Tony, while taking the offered beverages, and snagging a napkin covered cookie while he was at it.

Jenny watched Abby inhale a huge quantity of the Caf-Pow, shook her head, and asked sternly, "Did you eat anything even remotely nutritious today, Abby?" Abby nodded vigorously, "Yes, Ma'am, Gibbs brought us bagels and cream cheese this morning, and orange juice. We're good, honest Director!"

Glancing over at McGee, Jenny saw him nodding as well, so she grinned, and said, "Tony tells me you've had a breakthrough, anything you care to share?"

Abby and McGee exchanged happy glances, and then Abby caught sight of Liz, and the smile fell off her face as she said, with a lot less enthusiasm, "Nothing we can share just yet Director, but we'll let you know as soon as we have something worth reporting."

Jenny realized that whatever Abby had been about to tell her wasn't going to be shared while Templeton was in the room, and she began to make introductions, so Abby would know it was safe to speak in front of her. "Abby, this is Special Agent Templeton; she works with Fornell over at the FBI."

Before she got any further, Abby said coldly, "Oh, we've met, Director. Special Agent Templeton used to be on Gibbs' team, before he booted her ass back to the FBI."

As Tony and McGee both cried out, "Abby!" simultaneously, Jenny worked hard not to show her surprise at that news, as she made a mental note to check out Liz Templeton's NCIS file. In the meantime, this could be a problem. If Templeton didn't get along with Abby, and obviously had a problem with Tony, the likelihood of her working successfully with the team had just dropped to practically zero. How had Gibbs agreed to this disaster waiting to happen? She'd have to give him a quick call to see if there was any way to fix this, but in the meantime, she would have to try and defuse the situation. Fixing a stern look on her face, she glared at Abby, "That is quite enough Abby. Special Agent Templeton was assigned to work with us, and you will behave in a professional manner with her, is that understood?" She held Abby's eyes until she received a reluctant nod from Abby, then turned towards Templeton, and demanded quietly, "Is there a going to be a problem working with my people, Special Agent Templeton?"

Eager to appear conciliatory, Liz shook her head as she responded earnestly, "No, Ma'am, no problem at all. I can work with anyone, and have experience dealing with Abby's mercurial nature. It won't be a problem, I assure you."

Although Templeton had said all the right things, her subtle dig at Abby had not gone unnoticed by Jenny, Tony or Tim, and the room seemed to pulse with tension.

Jenny quickly scanned the occupants of the room to make sure there wouldn't be a homicide occurring on NCIS property in the next ten minutes. Her parting order was clearly heard by all, "Everyone get to work, and get along. The case is more important than any differences any of you might have. I have to get back to MTAC." She turned on her heel and walked out of the lab, glad that Gibbs would have to deal with this issue, as it was his problem and not hers. She headed back to MTAC and her own responsibilities, which right now, meant observing the debriefing of a group of terrorists.

As soon as Jenny left the room, Abby turned to Tony, and spit out, "Get her out of my lab, Tony. Like, NOW!" She'd heard what the Director had said, but Shepard hadn't been here when Liz worked for NCIS. She didn't know her – couldn't understand just how bad this was going to get.

Tony sighed, then moved toward Abby, rubbing the back of her neck gently, and saying softly, "Abs, we've got to work with her, we don't have a choice. Come on, Jenny's right, the case is more important than who likes who, so let it go, and let's find the bad guys that hurt Courtney, ok? Please?"

Liz watched them for a moment, as they whispered quietly back and forth to each other. 'Gibbs two little spoiled brats,' she thought, then shook her head and moved toward the one person in the room she hadn't met previously. Walking up to the man, she held out her hand and said, "Hi, I'm Special Agent Liz Templeton, FBI. I'm guessing you're McGee?"

Tim was at a loss. It was obvious Abby really didn't like this woman, but Tony was right, they had to work with her, so he held out his hand and responded politely, "Yes, Special Agent Tim McGee." Normally, he would have said, 'nice to meet you,' but that seemed inappropriate, considering the circumstances.

Liz said, "So, you must be the MIT grad."

McGee was startled by her knowledge of his alma mater, and asked, "Uh, yeah, how did you know that?"

Liz grinned as she said snidely, "DiNozzo mentioned it. He said you're the brains and he's the brawn. Or rather, I think he actually said, he represents the common man. Guess he got that much right, huh?"

'Who in the hell does she think she is? Walking in here and insulting one of the team,' Tim thought. He was beginning to understand Abby's antipathy towards this woman, so he answered firmly, "Tony is Gibbs' Senior Field Agent, and he wouldn't have that job if he wasn't smart. My degrees are useful to the team, but Tony's skills as an agent put mine to shame."

Liz rolled her eyes, as she said, "Running for coffee now counts as a skill?"

Tony had finally talked Abby into working with Liz, and had even managed to get her to promise not to kill the woman, no matter how much she was provoked. They were moving towards the counter where McGee was sitting when they heard the last part of the exchange between Liz and McGee. Tony saw Abby prepare to lunge for Liz, and calmly grabbed her around the waist, pulling her back against his body, when McGee was suddenly on his feet, stepping right into Liz's personal space and standing tall, looking her straight in the eye.

"I've lost count of how many times Tony's saved our lives, individually, and collectively. I'm grateful as hell he's on our side. I don't know what your problem is with my teammate, but you should probably know that none of us are going to buy into whatever it is you're selling. We've been together too long, and through too much as a team to let anyone take potshots at one of us, and not fight back. It's a really bad idea to take on this group, Special Agent Templeton. We've got each other's backs, so whatever your problem is, GET OVER IT. We have a job to do, and if you can't work with us, then you'd better head on back to the FBI and let us do the work, like we always do, and then you and your bosses can take the credit for it, like you always do."

Liz took a step back from the intensity pouring off of McGee, and suddenly, she heard clapping behind her and whirled to face a beaming Abby, who was clapping for all she was worth. Tony was standing beside her, grinning at McGee and shaking his head, as he said proudly, "Awww, our little Probie's all grown up, I'm so proud!"

McGee rolled his eyes and looked to Abby, who ran forward. Throwing her arms around him, and hugging him for all she was worth, she exclaimed, "You done good, Timmy. Really, really good!"

McGee blushed and ducked his head, then said softly, "Abs, I really can't breathe, here. Let go, please."

Abby squeezed him tight for one more minute, then released him, offering a kiss on his cheek before she stepped back. They shared a smile, and then Tony interrupted their moment by saying, "Ok, McGenius, I heard you had a brain-storm, so what's the latest?"

Abby and Tim shared a look, then both turned to Tony and McGee replied, "I think we should wait until Gibbs gets here, Tony. I'm not real sure that he'd want us going over this with the FBI in the room."

Tony immediately understood that whatever they were doing wasn't exactly legal, and there was no way he was willing to give Liz anything she could use against their team. He nodded at Tim and Abby, letting them know he understood, then turned to Liz, and said, "Gibbs and Officer David are meeting with Goldblume and Weiss, to see what information they can get. As soon as they get back, we'll know how we're going to divvy up the workload." Turning back to Abby, he said, "I know you're up to your pretty spiked collar in computer stuff, but did you get a chance to look at Carter's pajamas, or the note?"

When she heard that, Liz demanded, "Carter? Melissa Carter? Where did you get her pajamas, and what note?"

"She was released this morning, and we met with her and Mr. Goldblume at her house. She gave us her pajamas, which were the same ones she was wearing when she was taken and when she was released. She found a note pinned to the pajama top, and she was smart enough not to touch it. She placed it in a plastic bag, and handed that over to us, too."

Liz was furious that NCIS had interviewed the victim that was responsible for FBI agents being shot, and killed. How dare they take over an FBI case. Yes, she knew it was supposed to be a joint investigation, so why hadn't any FBI agent, namely herself, been included in that interview? God, it was seven years ago, all over again. This was exactly how Gibbs operated, always taking matters into his own hands without thinking about the others that were involved.

"Were you planning on sharing that information with the FBI at some point? Joint investigation, remember?" Liz stated coldly, through gritted teeth, her fury on full display.

Tony deliberately took a deep breath before he responded calmly, "The FBI was informed, Liz. I was with Gibbs when he called Fornell. We aren't hiding anything from him. If he chose not to inform you, there isn't anything I can do about that, so let's move on, shall we?"

"So what is it I'm supposed to be doing here? Special Agent Morgan said I'm to work with 'Gibbs' team' and here I am, as requested," Liz said, the anger leaching into her voice.

Still striving to maintain a neutral attitude towards her, Tony responded, "Gibbs wants us to check out David Barker's neighbors, see if we can find out anything about him that isn't in his record. He might have mentioned something to one of them, or they might have seen him with someone, anything we can find out will help us build a better profile of this guy."

Liz was thinking, 'Great, grunt work, and I get to watch DiNozzo flirt with everything in a skirt. This should be fun. Not.' Aloud, she said, "If Gibbs wants the information, then we should get started. Are you ready to go?"

Tony swept his hand towards the door, ushering Liz out, and before he followed, he turned towards Abby, giving her a kiss on the cheek, and then looked at McGee. Speaking softly, so only they would be able to hear him, he said, "Whatever you found, make sure Gibbs knows ASAP, and let him tell the Director. Keep your heads down, and you did good not sharing with Liz. We really don't have time to break you both out of federal prisons right now," he said with a cheeky grin, then turned towards the door to meet up with Liz.

Tony led Liz back up to the bullpen, where he stopped at his desk to pick up the keys for the car he had already requisitioned from the motor pool prior to her arrival. He snagged his backpack and jacket and led the way back to the elevator, headed for the parking lot where the car was parked. Liz seemed disinclined to speak, her anger still coming off her in waves, and Tony wasn't in the mood to verbally spar with her, and so he left her in silence.

Thankfully, they encountered no one on their walk to the car. Tony knew he couldn't let this oppressive silence continue, or everyone they questioned would pick up on it, and it would be detrimental to gaining cooperation. He sighed, then turned to Liz and said as calmly as he could, "Look, I know you don't want to be here, Liz, and I get that you really don't want to work with me. I don't have a clue why I rub you the wrong way, but we've stuck with each other for today, so we're going to have to get along. So, whatever I did that pissed you off, I apologize. Now, can we please just get to Barker's, question the neighbors, and find something to help us on this case?"

That was the last straw for Liz. The mere idea that he could stand there and pretend to be more reasonable than her made her want to scream, and she whirled towards him, ready to explode. "You have no idea??? Are you serious? How about showing me up on my last day on the job, so I had no way to change Gibbs' opinion of me? How about going out of your way to make me look incompetent, so I left NCIS under a cloud, looking like a slacker, instead of the competent federal agent I am?? How about accepting a job that you KNEW you weren't qualified for, some cop from Baltimore, with no federal law enforcement experience AT ALL, but you're suddenly hired for the best team at NCIS??? You managed to get yourself captured by a serial killer, beaten, molested, and isn't that just a polite way of saying 'fucked' and then, then you manage to guilt Gibbs into hiring you?? And I'm supposed to be ok with that? Why the hell do you think I quit? I sure as hell wasn't getting stuck working with you, that's for damn sure. I don't know how you managed to fool Gibbs all this time, but I did the background check on you for Gibbs, and I KNOW you don't belong here. If you consider that rubbing me the wrong way, well excuse me, Senior Field Agent DiNozzo, but the bottom line here is, I'm FBI, and you're NCIS. I'm the one with experience, and WE should be running this investigation. We started it, and we'll be one's to solve this case. Having you along is going to screw this up, and I am not going to be the one to take the blame for your mistakes. I don't want a damn apology, I want you to stay the hell out of my way, and let me do my job!!"

Jimmy Palmer was standing by his car and had just hit his speed dial for Abby, when he saw Tony and a woman he didn't know heading towards him. They obviously didn't see him, and he was about to call out to Tony when Abby answered, "Forensics, Abby speaking."

Jimmy responded, "Hi Abby, it's Jimmy, I was wondering if you want me to pick you up a Caf-Pow on my way back to Autopsy?" Before Abby could answer, they both heard Tony speaking to the woman, someone named 'Liz' and then heard her response. As soon as Abby heard Tony's voice, she hit the speaker button on her phone, and record. Her actions were instinctive, she knew Liz would hang herself, given half a chance, and she intended to catch it all for posterity. What she heard had her blood boiling, and Tim, who was sitting next to her, had stiffened when Liz started talking, or more accurately, growling at Tony. Jimmy's phone picked up the entire diatribe spewed by Liz, and Abby's equipment recorded it. Jimmy's jaw was hanging open as he listened to this stranger attack Tony, and he only managed to pull himself back into reality when he heard Abby yelling his name through the phone. Pulling the phone back to his ear, he answered in a very subdued voice, "I'm still here Abby. Who...who was that woman?" Abby's answer caused Jimmy to blush a bright red, and he stuttered a goodbye before closing his phone, and heading into the building. He completely forgot to get her a Caf-Pow, and moved automatically towards Autopsy, intent on getting to the safety of the morgue.

Tony felt like he'd been punched in the gut, and was momentarily struck dumb by the pure venom being spewed by Liz. It would clearly be pointless to try and defend himself, so he decided to take another tack. He had to get her focused on the case, and off of him, so he offered up the only thing he thought might work. "Liz, get a grip. Gibbs already told Fornell the FBI can take all the credit. The only thing NCIS wants is to catch the bad guys. Who gets the credit doesn't matter to us. Now Gibbs wants the neighbors interviewed, and I'm going to do that, so if you want to come along, fine, if not, you'll have to explain that to Fornell. Are you coming, or not?"

Liz glared at Tony, and said, "Of course I'm going with you! Do you really believe I would trust you to interview them by yourself? This is OUR case, and I already told you to let me do my job, and just get the hell out of my way! Let's go!" Tony shook his head as Liz strode away from him. Since she didn't know which car they were taking, her action was ridiculous, but Tony shrugged and walked toward the car for which he had the keys. When he reached the correct car, Tony threw his backpack and jacket on to the backseat, before getting into the driver's seat. Liz, who was by that time several cars away, glared, but huffed back to the sedan and took the front passenger seat, roughly tugging her seat belt into place, before clicking it shut with a vicious shove.

As Tony started the car, he thought, 'Well, we're certainly having fun now!'


	15. Chapter 15

"**A Friend in Need" – Chapter Fifteen**

Peter stood watching what Sylvia was doing from his vantage point behind her shoulders. It was just after noon and they were in the study at the plantation house, where Sylvia had set up her equipment. The ultramodern chrome of her laptop, enormous pedestaled auxiliary monitor, and various other pieces of equipment Peter found mysterious, and completely out of place in a room that had been designed a century ago, intended to be used as a sanctuary for reading, learning and meditation. When he'd been looking at houses to rent for the operation, Peter had immediately fallen in love with this room, its dark walnut furnishings and heavy damask curtains suggested masculinity, lineage, and entitlement. He would miss it when he had to disappear, but he fully intended to recreate it in whatever home he purchased for himself in Europe, where his money would allow him buy the type of life he'd always wanted, but could never afford. They were alone in the study, the only other inhabitants of the house being Galvin, and one of Barker's men, who had the task of monitoring their 'guest' and setting up the basement for DiNozzo's arrival, neither of whom were likely to interrupt them in here.

Sylvia had remained behind when the others left after the meeting; Richard to return to work, Jillian to the consulting firm to monitor Gibbs' movements from the computers there, and David, along with his other three men, to be ready to grab DiNozzo whenever Peter gave the command. Peter had been glad she'd elected to remain with him, even though they didn't always see eye to eye, her presence had a soothing effect on him. He appreciated her analytical mind, her unflappability and her beauty. Her quirky sense of humor and youth made him feel younger, hipper, more alive, than he did when he was alone. Peter had been fighting off a low grade migraine ever since Barker had called him yesterday to report that Gibbs and DiNozzo had shown up at Goldblume's apartment, then DeAngelo had followed with the news about the BOLO. Having Sylvia there provided a very pleasant distraction.

"He's finally on the move. I was afraid he was going to stay at the NCIS headquarters all day," Sylvia said, as she stared at the screen, "especially when Jillian reported that Gibbs had gone to see Weiss at his corporate offices."

"Let's see where he goes. This may be our best time to nab him, since we know Gibbs is tied up elsewhere," Peter said, not wanting to try and take DiNozzo when Gibbs was anywhere near by. He had a healthy respect and fear of the older agent, knowing all the stories that were told about him had to be rooted in fact. He wasn't the kind of person you could safely toy with, which is why he wanted to bring Gibbs' investigation to a standstill. "Maybe we should have Barker tail him from a respectable distance back, while you give him the coordinates. That way, if the opportunity presents itself, he'll be in position."

"That'll work," Sylvia agreed. "Are you sure this is the best solution to the problem, Peter?" she asked, knowing that since they were alone, he'd answer her truthfully, without any posturing.

Peter sighed, wishing she would have a little more faith in him, but also understanding her fear. Sylvia might be smart and ruthless in her drive for money, but she hadn't been exposed to violence in her life, unlike the others in the group. She'd had a major melt down when Nussbaum had been killed, and that had been accidental, rather than on purpose. Nussbaum had attacked David when he'd entered the room, bringing in a dinner tray, and David had fought back, inadvertently snapping the man's neck. Truth be told, it had been a blessing when Weiss had refused to pay the ransom, since they hadn't known what they were going to do about the situation if the demand had been met, and they had no one to return. This time, the damage inflicted on DiNozzo would be on purpose. They would need to show Gibbs they were serious about their threat, and only the image of his agent in agony would convince the man of their intent. Sylvia couldn't be anywhere near that when it happened. He was having a hard enough time getting her to even except the premise of the situation – the reality would be her undoing.

"I can't think of any other way to make him back off, Syl, and we really need him to do that. He's like a blood hound, once he's on a scent, he never gives up. The FBI will drop it, after a while; they've got too many other cases to solve, ones they have good leads on. Even though they lost agents, eventually the Director will pull them off this case, since unsolved cases don't garner headlines or public praise. Unfortunately, that's not an issue for Gibbs, since NCIS actually seems to work at staying out of the limelight," he explained. "I need you to trust me on this, please?" he asked, as he placed his hands lightly on her shoulders.

Sylvia took a deep breath, and then leaned back into him, resting her head against his arm. "I just don't want anything to ruin this for us, Peter. Not when we're so close."

"I know that," he said. "That's what I'm trying to prevent."

* * *

Tony and Liz hadn't said anything to each other on the drive to Barker's home, and Tony had resorted to turning on the radio to alleviate the tension in the air. Not wanting to aggravate Liz further, he'd turned to an easy listening station that specialized in playing soft rock from the '70's, '80's and '90's, thinking it was a safe bet. Usually he'd be tapping his foot, and hamming it up as he sang along with the music. Today he drove in silence, thinking about how they were going to get through the next couple of hours without killing each other, or embarrassing both of their agencies in front of potential witnesses. The unmitigated hatred she'd shown for him had him seriously questioning her ability to keep it in check when they were talking to Barker's neighbors. By the time they arrived at the complex he had thought of a plan. Now he just had to sell it to Templeton.

When he pulled the car into a space in the parking lot in front to the units, Liz released her seat belt and said, "Let's get going. The sooner we start, the sooner this charade will be over. Unlike you, I'm not used to being assigned to busy work; that's why teams have rookies."

Tony had to hide his grin. She'd just given him the perfect opening. "Since you're in such a hurry to be done here, why don't we split up the work. You take the townhouses on the north side of the parking lot, and I'll take the ones on the south side. That way we can still see each other, but will get finished a lot quicker." What he didn't add was that it would also prevent Liz from continuing to make caustic remarks aimed at him.

"Whatever," Liz replied, unwilling to acknowledge that it was a good idea, even though she was relieved to have a little distance between herself and DiNozzo.

With that decided, they got out of the car, and headed in their separate directions, to begin canvassing Barker's neighbors.

* * *

By the time Tony and Templeton had arrived at Barker's townhouse complex, Barker, who was driving the van, still decorated with the lawn service decals, was only four blocks behind. He'd realized about a mile back where DiNozzo was headed, the only question now, was why. His men, Joe White, Steve Holmes and Marty Franklin, who were with him, were all in favor of grabbing DiNozzo right away, and getting the hell out of there, but David wanted to know what the agent intended to do. Plus, he wasn't prepared to take action without a clear plan. That's how the whole fucked up mess with the Hummer had happened, and none of them could afford another similar incident. "We're not going to do anything until we know what he's up to. We need to do this as inconspicuously as possible, without drawing a huge crowd, and that means having a plan. I'm going to drive around the block so we can scope things out, then, if we think it's safe, I'll pull into the parking lot. Since the van still has the lawn service stuff on it, no one should be too curious."

As he very slowly circled the perimeter of the complex, they could see DiNozzo and some woman who must be his partner, going from door to door, talking to the occupants, to whom they were showing something, which David guessed was probably a picture of him. 'Thank God I kept to myself,' he thought. No one who lived around him knew anything useful about him, since he rarely did anything more than nod and say the occasional hello. He'd been careful not to have Jillian over to his place, and he never allowed his men to contact him there, since he hadn't really wanted them to know where he lived. David was a firm believer in the motto, 'Better safe than sorry.' Once he knew the lay of the land, he circled back around and pulled into the parking lot, beside a Honda sedan.

"Okay, let's go over this one more time," he said. There could be no margin of error here, since taking a federal agent was risky at any time, and doubly so during the daylight hours. "We want to draw as little attention as possible, so you're to use the tazers and stun guns. DO NOT use a real gun unless you absolutely have no other option. Gun shots will ensure that everyone in the area will come out to see what's going on. And remember, we need DiNozzo in one piece. The object is to question him to find out what NCIS knows about the kidnappings, and it's kind of hard to get any information out of a dead man. Are we clear on all that?"

When the other three men nodded, he continued. "Marty, you take care of the woman first. As soon as she'd down, Steve'll deal with DiNozzo, and you can back him up. Joe, you're with me in the van, unless they need you. Okay, you ready? Let's get this over with then."

Marty climbed out of the van, a clipboard in his hand. Liz, who was moving down the sidewalk on her way to the next townhouse, glanced at him briefly as he approached, but didn't give him another thought. They were all wearing the dark coveralls again, and hats that bore a picture of a riding lawn mower and the slogan, "Lawn Order" printed underneath. The rubber gloves had been traded for the gardening variety, and there was nothing to make the casual observer look at them twice. The instant he was past her, he swung back around and pressed his stun gun against her neck, pulling the trigger at the same time. She dropped like a rock to the ground, without ever uttering a sound, and he quickly turned and headed back towards the van.

Tony, who was across the lot, had seen the man approaching Liz, and had been watching. When he saw what had happened, he drew his gun and began to run in her direction, calling out, "Federal Agent, freeze. Drop your gun and get down on the ground."

As he ran by the parked van, Steve jumped out from the opened side doors, and fired his tazer. The leads embedded in Tony's back, and as the electricity shot through him, his legs gave out and he fell to the ground, his body spasming from the current. His gun, which had fallen from his hand as he collapsed, skittered under the parked Honda. Marty hurried to help Steve lift the now unconscious agent and toss him into the van, through the open side panel. Steve ripped DiNozzo's phone from his belt and tossed it to Joe, who quickly downloaded all the info it contained onto a clone phone, so that Sylvia and Jillian would be able to access the information. As soon as he was done, which took virtually no time at all, he tossed the phone back out of the van. They sure as hell didn't want NCIS to be able to track them using the GPS chip in the phone, the way they had with Kreiger. Once that was done, Marty slid the door shut, and David backed the van out of the parking spot, and drove sedately away.

As the van started to move, Steve searched Tony's body, looking for signs of any kind of tracking device. Finding none, he used Tony's own handcuffs to secure his wrists firmly behind his back, and then he took a length of rope and wrapped it around his ankles, binding them together and tying it in a knot. A rag was tied around Tony's eyes, and ear plugs were placed in his ears. They weren't willing to take any chances that he might wake up and see or hear something that would later allow him to identify them. About a mile and a half away, David pulled the van onto a side street, filled with old abandoned warehouses. Halfway down the block he turned into an alley. While the van idled, Joe and Marty hopped out and striped the decals off the sides of the van, while Steve changed out the license plate for another. It wasn't perfect, but should do until they got safely back to Calverton. Once there, Steve and Joe would take the van to a local junk yard, two towns over, and sell it for scrap metal. Now that it had been used in two crimes, they wouldn't risk driving it again.

Gibbs was not in a good mood. The interview with Weiss hadn't gone well. As soon as he had been introduced to Ziva, and heard of her affiliation with Mossad, he had all but thrown a temper tantrum. When Nussbaum had been taken, Weiss had contacted Mossad requesting assistance, and been denied. Nussbaum had not been targeted because he was Jewish, or because he was Israeli, the kidnapping was strictly for monetary gain, not political. Therefore it was considered a domestic issue, and did not fall under Mossad's purview, which was exclusively focused on terrorist activity and threats to Israel, and it's citizens. Weiss was outraged and was taking it out on Ziva. It had taken Ziva threatening him and Goldblume pleading with him, to make him tell his story, and when he did, Gibbs discovered that none of his information shed any new light on the situation. Through it all, Gibbs had had to bite his tongue, while the man made one slur after another about the American criminal justice system, and law enforcement agencies in general, specifically Mossad. It wouldn't have done any good to argue, as Weiss was completely closed minded, and still hurting from the loss of his friend and employee, but every time Gibbs ran into someone like that, he wondered what they thought the world would be like if there were no police forces or judicial systems. When they'd left Weiss' office, Goldblume had apologized for his friend's behavior, and asked if there was anything he could do to help with the investigation. Gibbs had assured him that apologies weren't necessary, and thanked him for the offer, telling him he'd let him know if anything came up, and then they'd shaken hands and parted ways.

Before getting into the car, Gibbs had tried calling Tony, wanting an update on how the canvassing was going, and he'd frowned when he got no answer. Figuring Tony was probably in the middle of talking to someone, he unlocked the car, and told Ziva they were stopping for coffee on their way back. He tried Tony again, before going in to Starbucks, and once more after they had their drinks. Still no answer. By now Gibbs was truly worried, and his heart began to pound faster. Even if Tony had been interviewing someone when he had first called, he would have rung Gibbs back before he moved on to the next home. Something had to be wrong. Punching number three on his speed dial, he waited impatiently for McGee to answer. When he did, Gibbs barked, "McGee, put a trace on Tony's cell phone right now, and give me a location. I'll hold."

"Um, sure Boss," McGee said, as he scrambled to minimize the screen he had open and frantically began to punch the letters on his keyboard. He didn't ask why. He didn't need to. He recognized Gibbs' tone of voice, and instinctively knew something bad had happened.

Ziva stood by the car and watched as Gibbs silently held the phone to his ear, as he stared unseeingly in front of him. His other hand was grasping the cup of coffee so tightly that his knuckles were beginning to turn white, and she worried that the cup would fold in on itself, splashing hot coffee all over his hand. "Perhaps you should put your coffee down," she suggested to him softly.

Gibbs glanced at her in surprise, and then looked down at his hand that was clutching the paper cup. Ziva could see him will himself to relax his grip, as he reached over and placed the coffee on the roof of the car, after which he looked back over at Ziva, as he waited for McGee to complete his search. They stood, each appraising the other, neither of them speaking. Nothing had been said about what Ziva had observed in Gibbs' basement on Friday night, but they knew that it was Tony's and Gibbs' relationship they were both now considering. Neither of them felt inclined to break the silence. Suddenly McGee's voice boomed out of the phone's speaker.

"Boss, the GPS locator is showing that Tony is at Barker's townhouse complex. Do you want me to feed you the coordinates?" McGee offered anxiously.

"Not necessary," Gibbs said. "Ziva's with me, and she knows the way, but I want you to head that way right now. We'll meet you there," Gibbs said, then he closed the phone and snatched the coffee off the top of the car. "We need to get to Barker's," he told Ziva as he opened the car door and got in; he had the car turned on before she was even in her seat.

Had it been anyone else in the car with Gibbs besides Ziva, they would most likely have needed a doctor by the time Gibbs screeched to a halt in front of Barker's home. They had said little more than was necessary on the ride over - Ziva giving directions, and Gibbs occasionally asking for clarification -whatever they had each been thinking earlier now completely replaced by the need to get to Barker's and find out what had happened. When they pulled up, Gibbs muttered a quiet "Shit!" There were four police cars and an ambulance blocking the street between the townhouses and the parking lot, and a crowd of people were standing on the curb, gawking. Gibbs was out of the car and over by the police in mere seconds, his badge pulled out as his eyes swept the scene, looking for the person in charge. There was a cluster of uniforms to his left, surrounding an older man in a suit. Beside them, two paramedics were kneeling over a prone body, and Gibbs could see with just a glance that it was Liz Templeton. Taking just a moment to look around for a second time, his gut clenched when he realized there was no sign of Tony. "Check on Templeton, while I talk to the LEOs," he ordered Ziva, who was now standing to the right of him.

The detective in charge of the scene was not happy, and not surprised, to see Gibbs, although he'd been expecting someone from the FBI, not NCIS. The patrolman who had first arrived on the scene had checked the woman's purse for identification, and had called for backup the minute he'd seen the FBI badge. Det. Cooper had been dispatched to head things up, until the area precinct captain could get there. After what had happened on Friday afternoon, all of the Metro police were leery of anything having to do with the FBI. Cooper had never dealt with NCIS before, but one look at the man in front of him, told him this was not going to be a picnic.

"Are you in charge of this scene?" Gibbs demanded of him.

"For now, I'm Det. Dan Cooper," the cop told Gibbs. "Captain Janssen is on his way over from the precinct house, even as we speak."

"He doesn't need to bother. I'm taking over this scene," Gibbs informed the man. He was way past the point he could even try to be polite.

"Thanks for the offer, but I think we'll keep it," the detective said, surprising even himself with his ballsiness. "The lady there isn't an NCIS agent so you don't have any jurisdiction."

"The 'agent' over there was working for me, on loan from the Bureau, and she was accompanied by one of my own, who I don't see anywhere, so that makes it my investigation. If you want to help, you can make sure none of these people leave until my people have interviewed them." Gibbs glare dared the man to contradict him.

By that time, McGee had arrived, since the Naval Yard was much closer to Barker's than Weiss' had been. "What's going on, Boss? Where's Tony?" he asked.

"That's what we're going to find out. Take Ziva and start talking to the people around here, see if anyone saw anything, and find Tony's cell phone. I want to know what happened!" Gibbs ordered. He glanced over to where Templeton had been laying, and saw that the paramedics had loaded her onto a gurney, and that her eyes were opened.

Liz had awakened to the feel of hands on her, and she had instinctually tried to fight them off, but her body wouldn't cooperate. Her head was pounding, and she was too weak to move. It was only sheer stubbornness that allowed her to even open her eyes, and she was shocked to find paramedics hovering in her face when she actually succeeded in getting her eyes to focus. The paramedics were clearly checking her for injuries, and after making an internal audit of her own body, she tried to tell them that she was fine, although the weak voice and stuttered words she managed to produce didn't seem to reassure them. She all but resigned herself to their ministrations when she felt someone's eyes boring into her. Turning her head, she saw Gibbs standing by a group of policemen, looking directly at her.

When Gibbs saw Templeton look at him, he moved over to her, and standing by the gurney, he demanded, "Report Agent Templeton!"

The paramedics began to object, but the look Gibbs fixed on them made them hesitant to say more and they found themselves taking a few steps back. Liz saw the barely suppressed rage on Gibbs' face, and fought the urge to shudder. She was having enough difficulty just keeping her eyes open; she wasn't up to dealing with Gibbs in battle mode. "I don't know what happened, Gibbs," she managed to say. "We were talking to the neighbors, going door to door……lots not home……..saw nothing…….down the walk…..then nothing." As she said the last, her eyes closed again, as she lost her war with consciousness. Gibbs looked at her and knew he wasn't going to get any more useful information out of her at the moment. He was angry that she had never once asked about DiNozzo, her partner for the day. Any member of his team, in the same situation, that would have been the first question out of their mouths when they regained consciousness.

Looking over at the paramedics, he told them, "Take her to Bethesda." When they started to object, saying that wasn't the nearest hospital, Gibbs cut them off. "This woman's a federal officer, and another federal agent has been kidnapped. Bethesda's the safest place for her. If your supervisor has a problem with that, I'll be glad to talk to them." When he turned away, he could hear the paramedic talking to their dispatcher, telling them that he'd been ordered to take the injured woman to Bethesda, and confirmed that she was a federal agent. When the paramedic hung up, he looked over at Gibbs and said, "We're all set. We'll have her at Bethesda shortly." He and his partner began to push the gurney towards the ambulance.

Gibbs went over to Det. Cooper and asked to speak to the first officer to respond. A young, baby faced patrolman who had been standing nearby, and had clearly overheard the request, stepped forward and said, "That would be me, Sir, Officer Kevin Baker."

"Show me exactly where you found Agent Templeton lying," Gibbs requested.

The kid took Gibbs over to a specific spot on the sidewalk, but after looking carefully around the area, Gibbs didn't find anything of interest. "How were you alerted to a problem?" he asked the patrolman.

"It came in as a 911 call," Cooper supplied, since he'd followed Gibbs and the patrolman.

"I want a copy of that call sent to Abby Scuito in Forensics over at NCIS, ASAP," Gibbs ordered Cooper. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ziva gliding through the crowd of people, looking for witnesses. He was just about to go over to see if she'd learned anything, when he heard McGee.

"Boss, Boss," McGee was calling as he rushed over to where Gibbs was standing. He was holding two evidence bags, and Gibbs had to swallow when he saw that one contained a cell phone and the other a gun. "One of the kids over there," and he pointed to a group of preteen boys holding skate boards, "saw two men grabbing Tony and pushing him into a black lawn service van. I went over and looked around where the kid said the van was parked, and I found Tony's cell and his service gun under a late model Honda." Gibbs started to say something, but McGee pressed on. "I've already put out a BOLO on the van, based on the kid's description; unfortunately he didn't catch the license plate number."

"Good job, McGee," Gibbs growled. "Go help Ziva. Maybe someone else saw something. Let's get these people questioned, and then get the hell out of here." As McGee turned to go, Gibbs already had his cell phone out, and had punched 9 on his speed dial. As soon as it was answered he said curtly, "Gibbs for the Director." The local cops who were hovering nearby started moving away; not wanting to be in the line of fire when the furious fed finished his call.

When Jenny came on the line, Gibbs told her what had happened, that Templeton was being taken to Bethesda, and that it looked as if Tony had been kidnapped by the very people they were after. He asked her to call the Chief of Police and see if he could expedite the transfer of the tape of the original 911 call to Abby, and Jenny promised she would. She told Gibbs she would call the Director of the FBI to alert him to the situation, and asked if he wanted her to call Fornell. "No, I'll call him myself. I owe him that," Gibbs answered.

"That'll be fine," Jenny said, and just before she hung up, she added, "You'll find him, Jethro."

Gibbs was muttering, "You can count on that," as he disconnected, and pressed speed dial 8, for Fornell. After Fornell answered, Gibbs immediately began to tell him what had happened with Templeton and that she was being transported to Bethesda for observation, even though it looked like her only injury was the marks on her neck from a stun gun.

Upon hearing that, Fornell had cursed and said, "We might as well take over our own wing, at the rate we're going." When Gibbs continued, telling him about Tony's abduction, Fornell ran his hand through his hair. Gibbs would move heaven and earth to find one of his people, and if DiNozzo turned up dead, nothing was going to stop Gibbs from ripping those bastards apart with his own hands, not that Fornell would try to stop him. At that point, he wasn't even sure that he wouldn't help. 'Five dead FBI personnel, 3 wounded, one of ours in hiding, and now another attacked with a stun gun, and an NCIS agent kidnapped!' Once again Fornell found himself wondering who in the hell these people were.

Fornell found his voice, and said, "One of us will meet her in the E.R. when she arrives. I'll be over your way as soon as possible. I'm sorry about all this Jethro. We're going to do whatever it takes to get DiNozzo back."

Gibbs' response was terse, but expected, "Not your fault. These fuckers declared open war on federal agents, but why the hell would they kidnap one? There's something else going on here, and we're gonna find out what, and get him back. I'll see you at the office when you get there. We're heading back now. See if you can get anything out of Templeton besides, 'I don't know what happened,' which is what she told me before she passed out." Gibbs hung up and moved towards Ziva and McGee, asking, "You get anything else we can use?" Both shook their heads, and all three of them moved towards the cars they had arrived in, climbing in and heading back to NCIS, where they were going to have to break the news to Abby that Tony was missing.

* * *

The waiting room at Bethesda had been full of FBI personnel when Fornell had answered the phone. When he vehemently exclaimed, "Sonofabitch!" all heads turned his way. Ed Morgan moved closer to him, and Asst. Director Marshall and Captain DeAngelo, who had been talking quietly together on the other side of the room, turned to listen. Two younger agents, who had been lounging in chairs, sprang to their feet when they saw their boss go rigid. Fornell's comment about taking over a wing in the hospital ratcheted up the tension another notch, and Morgan reached over, putting a hand on Fornell's shoulder, offering silent support. After he hung up, Fornell sank down into the chair behind him. All eyes in the room were on him. They'd all heard the comment about the E.R. and getting DiNozzo back.

Morgan sat down next to Fornell, and asked quietly, "How bad is it?"

Before answering Tobias looked at the two junior agents. Pointing to one of them he said, "You, Primus, get down to the E.R. and tell them an ambulance is coming in with one of our agents in it. I want you to call me the instant Liz Templeton's ambulance arrives." Mark Primus stood gaping at Fornell, and Tobias snapped, "Do it now!" Mark didn't wait to be told a second time, as he sprang into action and headed out of the room. Then, looking over at Morgan, Fornell said, "Templeton took a stun gun to the neck, but that looks like her only injury. They're really just bringing her in as a precaution. She's groggy and doesn't seem to remember anything. Gibbs wants us to see if she can recall anything that will be useful. DiNozzo's another matter. The bastards took him, and no one has a clue as to why."

Director Marshall had been listening and he was worried. He held Fornell in equal portions of respect and fear. Marshall was actually over ten years younger than Fornell, but he was politically savvy and good looking, just the kind face the FBI liked to present to the public, and he'd risen quickly through the ranks; but just like every other AD, he had started out as an agent, and he'd been trained by Fornell. That had made their relationship, once he became and Assistant Director, unique. Although he was technically Fornell's boss, and he'd been known to pull rank, as he had last night when he'd ordered Fornell home, he also knew it was usually best to defer to the older man's instincts when it came to solving a case. But now, as he looked at his former mentor, he didn't like what he was seeing.

Despite having gotten some sleep last night, Tobias had been back at the hospital bright and early that morning, the sleep seeming to have done little to alleviate the bags under his eyes or the sallowness of his skin. Marshall didn't remember Fornell ever having looked this wrung out. Fornell wasn't a young man anymore, Marshall had to remind himself, and much as they all wanted the case solved, nothing would be gained by allowing Tobias to drive himself into the ground, with the possible consequences of him suffering a heart attack or stroke. When he swept his gaze over Morgan, he realized the team leader didn't look much better. He shook his head in concern, something was going to have to give on this case soon, or the FBI would be suffering collateral losses before it was all done.

Stepping out into the hall, Marshall went next door to small, private family waiting room. Taking out his cell phone, he called the Director of the FBI, to brief him on what had occurred, knowing he would want to contact Director Shepard over at NCIS to express the same kind of condolences she had so graciously shared with them last night. After assuring the Director that he would remain at the hospital to keep an eye on things, he disconnected and walked back into the main waiting room, to see if there was anything he could do to help. When he got there, Fornell and Morgan were on their feet.

As it turned out, all Fornell wanted Marshall to do was to remain at the hospital and watch over the wounded agents. He and Morgan were intending to question Templeton and then head over to NCIS to help with their efforts to find their missing agent. Fornell seemed more focused and energetic than he had in days, and Marshall mused, as he watched Morgan and Fornell leave, that perhaps having something proactive to do would be even more beneficial for the older man than twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep.


	16. Chapter 16

"**A Friend in Need" – Chapter Sixteen**

_**WARNING:**__ Disturbing Imagery and Content, Graphic Violence. You may wish to skip the first half of this chapter._

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David drove carefully all the way back to Calverton. The last thing he could afford was to be pulled over by a cop, since there was a BOLO out on him, and the way his luck was running, if he even went two miles over the speed limit he'd be sure to get caught. The mood of his men in the van was jubilant. They had completed their mission without a single hiccup, and they were making plans to go out that night to celebrate. David wasn't willing to pop their bubble quite yet, but the last thing he or the other four could afford was for his guys to go out, get plastered, and run their mouths, perhaps even inadvertently saying something that would give away the operation. David would make sure they had so many things to do when they returned to home base, that the evening's plans would have to be postponed.

When they got back to the plantation, David pulled the van up to the side of the house. There was an old storm cellar door that led to the basement, where they had prepared a room, months ago, on the off chance they ever needed to keep someone prisoner, other than their corporate 'guests.' This room lacked the amenities of the regular guest room, and more resembled a prison cell than a five star hotel suite. David hadn't really known why they would need it when Peter had insisted it be prepared, and when questioned, he'd merely said if they were going to get into the kidnapping business, they needed to be ready for all contingencies. The basement had already contained a small room, created by some previous tenant that was nothing more than four walls with an ancient, crude toilet and rust stained slop sink in it. It had probably been designed to be used as a place children could duck into, while playing outside, to do their business and return to their revelries, without tracking dirt through the whole house. They had removed the pitted old mirror that was hanging precariously over the sink, put in a sturdy cot, and installed two dead bolts on the door. Peter had gone so far as to insist that they put White down there and lock him in, to see if he could find a way to escape, and David had complied, even though he thought Peter was being completely paranoid. At the time, David hadn't foreseen any situation in which they would need the room. Now, five months later, not only did they have an occupant for the cell, but supposedly Peter and Garrison had been busy setting up a torture space on the other side of the basement. David was privately beginning to have second thoughts about the whole operation, but at this point he was in so deep, he didn't see a way out. Plus, the money from the previous kidnappings was still locked away in some Swiss bank account, and he wasn't going anywhere until he had his fair share.

When David opened the panel door on the side of the van, he saw that DiNozzo was still lying quietly on the floorboards. Deeming it safe, he had leaned in, intending to drag the unconscious man out by his ankles. David was completely unprepared, when, after grabbing hold of DiNozzo's bound feet, the man had bent his knees and then straightened them back out, catching David in the center of his chest and sending him flying out of the van and onto the ground. By the time David and his men had reacted, DiNozzo, eyes still blindfolded, hands cuffed, and legs tied, had scooted to the edge of the van and hopped out. When Marty went to grab him, David barked, "Leave him alone, I'll get him," as he stumbled awkwardly to his feet. He wasn't afraid that DiNozzo would get away, he knew that his action had been an instinctual response to being taken prisoner. Nevertheless, he was furious that the man had managed to get the better of him, embarrassing him in front of his men. Closing the distance between himself and DiNozzo, he stepped in front of the sightless man, and slammed his fist into his jaw. When Tony crumpled to the ground, Barker landed a vicious kick to his midsection, saying, "Now we're even." Then looking over at his men, he gestured to the once again unconscious man, and ordered, "Get him into the basement." Once DiNozzo had been picked up off the ground, David turned and walked towards the cellar door.

Peter was pacing around the basement, his feet keeping time to the throbbing of his head, as he waited for David to arrive. Sylvia had left over an hour ago, although it had taken all of his powers of persuasion to convince her to do so. When Barker had called, and reported that they had DiNozzo, and were on their way back, Peter had known that he needed to make Sylvia leave. He wanted to shelter her from the ugliness that was coming. She, however, had sensed his increased anxiety and tension, and had dug her heels in, claiming he needed her there, which had made him frantic. She knew they were planning to scare Gibbs with pictures of DiNozzo in captivity, but she didn't fully understand what it would take to make someone like Gibbs back down. Peter didn't ever want her to know what was about to happen. She probably thought they could just slap him around a little, and that would suffice. He had no intention of stripping her of that notion. As his feeling had evolved from mere respect and camaraderie to something deeper, Peter had become increasingly protective of Sylvia. He wanted Sylvia in his life for a long time to come, and was afraid that if she witnessed the brutality he was about to sanction, she'd be repulsed, and reject him. All of those concerns had combined, adding fuel to the headache he'd been fighting off for the last day and a half. He had become short tempered and snappish with Sylvia after Barker's call. Sylvia was attuned to his moods, and very aware of when his old injury was making itself known. They'd had an argument over whether he should take his migraine medicine and lie down for a while. Peter hadn't wanted to risk taking the medicine, as it had a tendency to make him groggy. When it appeared to be the only way to ensure that she would relent, and go back to the city, he had finally given in. Sylvia hadn't noticed that he had only taken half his regular dosage, and she had kissed his check and reluctantly said her farewells.

The minute she had gone, Peter had gone down to the basement, to check on what Garrison had accomplished. When David and the other men had left early in the day, Peter had pulled Garrison aside and explained to him what was going to happen that evening. He carefully explained they would need a place set up so they could tape DiNozzo's torture and interrogation once they had him. Garrison had assured Peter that he knew just what to do, and had outlined a plan, which Peter had approved. He knew Garrison had made a trip out earlier, for supplies, but had not been able to break away from Sylvia to go down and investigate. When he got down there, finally, it was almost 4:00; he could see that Garrison had indeed been busy. Two very sturdy meat hooks had been driven into the beams supporting the floor boards that served as a ceiling for the room, and two lengths of chain had been threaded through them. Under the chains, sharp shards of gravel and rock had been laid, so that anyone with bare feet would be unable to step fully down without inflicting a fair amount of damage and pain to their feet. Four work lights on stands, the kind one often sees at road construction sites at night, had been set up around the area, and extension cords had been run from light to light, and then back to the outlet by the stairs. Clearly Garrison had felt the single bulb suspended from the ceiling would not provide sufficient light. On a small table at the side of the room sat two hand held, DVD camcorders, all loaded and ready to record. Peter was just about to plug the lights in to see how well they worked, when he heard the old storm doors being opened.

As Peter watched, Barker climbed down the wooden slats that served as a makeshift ladder. When he got to the bottom he turned and saw Peter. "My guys are bringing him now," he told Peter as he crossed over to him, looking at the changes that had been made to the basement while he'd been gone. "You've been busy, I see," he commented, as they both looked back to the opening when they heard voices. They watched as Marty Franklin scurried down the ladder, then White and Holmes leaned through the opening, handing down DiNozzo's limp body.

Peter had a moment of fear as he looked at the unconscious man. "He isn't dead is he?" he demanded to know, immediately thinking about how that would totally ruin his plan.

"Relax, he's just fine," Barker assured him. "He tried to get away as we were taking him out of the van, and I cuffed him on the chin, but he'll wake up when we need him to." Barker didn't mention the kick, since he knew that hadn't been necessary, but he'd been pissed and unable to stop himself. He didn't want to admit that lack of control to Phelps though, since he knew the man didn't hold him in the highest regard as it was.

By now, the other two men were in the basement also, and they all looked over at Barker and Phelps for instructions. DiNozzo was lying on the ground, where Franklin had dropped him. "Remove the earplugs and blindfold, and strip him down to his underwear," Peter ordered. He wanted the maximum amount of skin showing when they filmed him for Gibbs, so the NCIS agent could see the full extent of the damage done to his man. "And hurry," he added. He wanted the tape to arrive at NCIS by 7:30 at the latest, which meant it had to be dropped off in the courier box by around six, with instructions to make it a rush delivery. Turning to Barker, he said, "Go upstairs and bring down two sets of the black jumpsuits and masks for all of us. Grab the voice distorter while you're there. I'll do the questioning while you wield the whip."

Peter watched the men remove DiNozzo's clothes while he waited. When they removed the handcuffs so they could take off his jacket and shirt, he had an idea. He'd had Garrison pick up leather wrist cuffs to use when securing DiNozzo the chain, but metal handcuffs would be more painful, as the steel would cut into his wrists as he struggled to get free. "Do we have another set of cuffs?" he asked Joe White, after he set the handcuffs and a ring of keys on the ground.

"Yeah," White said. "This isn't our set. Franklin still has ours. We used his own cuffs on him, since they were right there."

"Good, we're going to need both sets. When he's undressed, hook each of his wrists with a cuff from each set. We'll use the other end of each to secure his arms to the chains," Phelps instructed.

It didn't take long for the men to get Tony ready. He was naked, except for a pair of black cotton knit boxer briefs, and his body was limp, all his weight being supported by his arms, which were tightly cuffed to the two chains, from which he was suspended. There was a mean looking bruise forming on his stomach, and Phelps suspected Barker hadn't been completely honest about his tussle with DiNozzo. He wasn't worried, as he could see the rise and fall of his chest as he hung there, unconscious. When Barker returned, they quickly slid the coveralls on over their clothes, and the other men put on the face masks, while White turned on the lights. The room blazed to life, and DiNozzo's body seemed to glow from the power of the lights. Peter smiled; Gibbs would be able to see every single detail. It had been decided that Franklin and Holmes would each work a camera, that way there would be no chance of something going wrong with the recording; if one camera failed, they would have a backup. Both men had been looking over the recording devices while Phelps and Barker had been getting ready. Peter instructed them to always be aware of the other camera, and to stay out of range of it. He didn't want to accidently give NCIS anything to work with in find them.

"Okay, exactly how do you want to do this?" Barker had asked.

"Use the whip to wake him up," Phelps had instructed. "We're going to want to question him first. Even though the welts from the whip will appear right away, it'll take several minutes for the bruising to show up and start to spread. I want him real pretty by the time we start filming him for Gibbs." He then pulled the ski mask down over his face, placed the voice synthesizer around his head, looked to make sure Franklin and Holmes had the cameras rolling, and nodded at Barker.

Barker backed up, and to the left. He swung the heavy black leather braided whip Garrison had purchased behind him, then, with a sharp flick of the wrist, his arm shot forward. There was a whoosh, and then the sound of the whip cracking, as its tail slashed across Tony's back and wrapped around his side, echoing through the room. Tony's eyes flew open as a stripe of fire burned across his back, and as his body shuddered in pain, he grunted. His feet instinctively tried to connect with the ground, and even as he was adjusting to the searing pain that lanced across his back, a new set of pains, duller and more diffused, blossomed under his feet, as he stepped down onto the sharp gravel. Bright lights blazed into his eyes, blinding him, and when he tried to roll himself up into a protective ball, he realized his arms were raised above him, and cuffed to something he guessed was chain. Before he could assess the situation any further, he heard the hiss of a whip as it cut through the air, and felt it slice across his upper thighs. Fighting the scream trying to escape his throat, his body sagged, and he felt the metal of the handcuffs bite into the soft skin of his wrists. He hung there panting, then once again tried to stand to alleviate the pressure, but his feet slid on the sharp rocks and gravel below.

Peter stood to the right side, watching with satisfaction as angry red welts formed on the agent's back and legs. Checking to make sure Barker's men had recorded that, he held up his hand, indicating that Barker should pause. After activating the switch on the voice synthesizer he said, "Agent DiNozzo, how nice of you to join us. Although I must say, my feelings are rather hurt, since you don't look all that pleased to be here."

Tony tried to fight through the fog of pain that encompassed him, and turned his head to see who was speaking, but the bright lights and the sweat that was streaming down his face, made it impossible to see anything clearly. "What do you want?" he managed to pant.

"Why I'm just granting your wish," Peter said. "You wanted to find the kidnappers, and now you've done it." He nodded at Barker, indicating that he should once again strike DiNozzo with the whip. He stood watching, with a combination of respect and amusement, as the NCIS agent bit his bottom lip to keep from crying out, as the vicious tip of the whip caught him on the left shoulder and lower neck. Then, before DiNozzo could regain any sense of equilibrium he barked, "Tell me what NCIS knows about our operation."

Tony's only answer was to spit in the direction of the voice, as he struggled to find some way to stand more upright. He had almost gotten his feet planted, ignoring the pain on his soles, when the whip cracked again, and he felt it tear into his left side, causing his feet to slide back out from underneath him, as his body lurched forward. The pain was excruciating, but he would not give them the satisfaction of screaming out his agony.

"How did you find out about Goldblume and Carter?" the voice asked, and when Tony resolutely refused to answer, the whip struck again. Again and again the whip sliced into him, as he bit into his lips and cheeks, to keep from crying out, or speaking, as the voice bombarded him with questions about NCIS's investigation, and what they had uncovered, even though he wasn't able to suppress the moans each time the whip flayed his skin. Finally, when DiNozzo was barely conscious, gasping and wheezing as he struggled to breathe, no longer even able to lift up his head, Peter called the questioning to an end. Apparently the agent was much tougher than Peter had given him credit for being, and they were clearly not going to get any answers out of him right then. By this time, Peter wasn't even sure he could speak if he wanted to. The interrogation had gone on for quite some time, and the welts on DiNozzo's body were now a dark red, and many of them were turning a sickening shade of purple. The skin had broken in several places, where the swelling from the welts had left it too fragile to withstand the repeated blows, and blood oozed out of the wounds. His wrists, from which he now hung limply, were bruised and cut, where the skin had been ripped away in his struggle to escape the blows and stand upright, and his feet were raw and bleeding, as they lay, arches down, still and boneless against the gravel. "I want you to get close-ups of his whole body. I'm going to give Gibbs a warning and then pull back for one last shot of the whip striking him," he instructed the men. "Those are going to be our money shots. Then get him down and toss him in the room."

When the men had filmed Tony's body from top to bottom, Peter spoke, "Special Agent Gibbs, as long as NCIS continues to investigate Melissa Carter's kidnapping, NCIS Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo will pay for your interference. If you want your Senior Field Agent back, alive and in one piece, you will cease and desist from your involvement in this matter." As the cameras continued to scan over Tony's body, the whip slashed across his back one last time, causing him to grunt in pain, Peter smiled.

* * *

The bouncing of the gurney, as it was loaded out of the ambulance and pushed quickly along the pavement towards the doors of the ER, woke Liz from her slumber. She was trying to take stock of her condition as she was wheeled through the sliding glass doors, right past Morgan and Fornell who stood by the entrance, concern etched on their faces, and into the first available examining room. She was feeling better after sleeping all the way to Bethesda, the only side effects from her attack that seemed to remain were an overall stiffness and a mild headache. Once she was sure she was going to be fine, she began to try and piece together the scattered memories she had of the investigation at Barker's complex, and her attack, into some coherent order. She was so distracted by her efforts that she gave only the most minimal of answers to the doctor, as he attempted to determine whether she had suffered any serious injury.

Finally, after he was convinced that she hadn't suffered a concussion or any broken bones, and that the effects of the stun gun had largely worn off, the doctor prescribed Tylenol and a good night's rest, and told her he was discharging her. She thanked him, and immediately tried to struggle out of the bed, eager to leave. The doctor told her to relax, saying it would take some time to fill out the necessary paperwork, and that her boss and another agent were out in the waiting room, and anxious to see her. 'I'll bet,' Liz thought to herself, as she lay back against the pillows, wondering if she had enough strength to withstand the grilling Fornell would undoubtedly give her.

"How you doing Liz?" Morgan asked, as he and Fornell swept into the room, not long after the doctor had left.

"I'm okay," she answered. "Just a headache. The doctor said Tylenol would help." She looked over at her two supervisors and asked, "What happened?"

"I was hoping you would be able to tell US that, Agent Templeton," Tobias answered more tersely than he'd intended.

Liz shook her head in aggravation. "I just can't remember. I know I was walking down the sidewalk, on my way to another townhouse, then nothing. The next thing I remember clearly was waking up on a gurney, surrounded by paramedics. It's so frustrating!"

Morgan could see what this was costing Liz, and he quickly jumped in, "Don't worry Liz. It'll be fine. We'll get you that Tylenol, and as soon as the doctor has the paperwork done, you're going home and straight to bed. We'll revisit this tomorrow, and maybe, after a good night's sleep, you'll remember something more, okay?"

"No, it's NOT okay, Special Agent Morgan," Fornell barked. "Agent DiNozzo was kidnapped, and Templeton may well be our only witness. As soon as she's done here, the three of us are heading over to NCIS, and we're going to go through everything she did today, step by step, in the hopes she'll remember something to help us find these bastards."

Liz gaping at Fornell, stunned by what he'd just said. "What do you mean DiNozzo got kidnapped? How in the hell did that happen?"

"You were there, why don't you tell me!" Fornell snapped at her.

"I DON'T KNOW!" Liz practically screamed. "I keep trying to tell you that I don't remember anything that happened."

Morgan realized they were about one step away from this spiraling completely out of control, and he interrupted before either of the other two could say anything more. "Let's just calm down people. I'll get you that Tylenol, Liz, and you can rest on the way to NCIS. Maybe chasing the headache away will help you remember something." He gave Fornell a slight glare, warning him against aggravating the situation any further. "Did you eat anything today, Liz? Do you want me to get you a sandwich or something?" he asked.

The thought of food had her stomach threatening to revolt, and she shook her head and said, "No food, but I would like that Tylenol, and some water."

"No problem. I'll go get it, and see what's taking the doctor so long," Morgan said as he moved to the door. "In the meantime, you just take it easy."

When Morgan had left the room, Liz took a deep breath, looked at Fornell, and said, "I'm sorry about getting angry, Sir. It's just so frustrating. I want to remember, want to do anything I can to help catch these bastards, but I don't remember."

Tobias could see that she was telling the truth, and he softened a bit, realizing he'd pushed too hard, been too sharp with her, "Don't worry about it now, Agent Templeton," he said. "Give it a little time, maybe after you've had some aspirin, things will get a little clearer. We'll go back over everything when we get to NCIS, and something may occur to you." Right now Liz was their only hope. Of course, someone called 911, so maybe there had been another witness. God, he hoped so, or Gibbs was going to be even more impossible to live with than usual, and more dangerous than a bear when it's cub had been threatened.

Morgan came back in the room, not long after that, carrying a glass of water and the Tylenol, and by the time Liz had swallowed three of the pills, a nurse had brought in the discharge papers, along with written instructions from the doctor that simply echoed what he had said earlier.

Once Liz had signed the forms, Fornell quickly herded Morgan and her out the doors and into a waiting car, chauffeured by Agent Primus. Apparently Primus knew their destination, because, once the doors were shut, he pulled out and headed towards NCIS. As they rode in silence, Liz leaned back and rested her head against the cushion, allowing her eyes to close. She wished she was heading home, to the siren call of her own bed, not to NCIS and Gibbs' unreasonable demands and hasty judgments. There was no way he was going to be anything but an absolute pain in the ass to deal with, and she dreaded facing him. Damn DiNozzo! He'd managed to go and get himself kidnapped again! This day was never going to end.

* * *

It was almost six o'clock by the time Ziva, McGee and Gibbs got back to NCIS. The traffic had been terrible, and even with Gibbs cutting a path for their two car caravan, it had been slow going. The delay had only served to heighten Gibbs' anxiety, and he knew the worst was yet to come. Abby was going to fall apart when she heard Tony had been taken, and he couldn't really blame her. He knew the rest of the team didn't understand why she reacted so badly every time Tony's life was endangered. Not that they didn't worry also, but their concern never reached the level of hysteria that Abby exhibited. But Gibbs knew why. He could still remember Abby, sitting on the ground in Jeffers' basement with Tony's head resting on her lap, covered head to toe in Tony's blood, as she crooned to his inert form. They didn't know about that, and he wasn't about to tell them. When they finally got to the parking garage, Gibbs waited for McGee, wanting his youngest agent there, knowing Abby would need him, after he offered her initial comfort.

It was a solemn and silent group that rode down in the elevator to Abby's lab. When the doors opened, Gibbs was assailed by the grinding guitars from Abby's music, and he paused for just a second, letting the normalcy of the scene wash over him. He was about to shatter Abby, and he needed the time to steel himself. Abby heard people enter her lab, but she was so absorbed in what she was studying on the computer, that she didn't look up until her music suddenly disappeared. When her head shot up, her mouth already open to chastise whoever had dared to turn off her tunes, she saw Gibbs and the rest of the team. One good look at the expression on Gibbs' face was all it took.

"NOOO!" she moaned, as she looked at McGee and Ziva standing behind Gibbs. "Where's Tony, Gibbs?" she demanded. "Why isn't he with you?" and even though she was asking those questions, tears were already starting to pool in her eyes.

"They took him, Abs," Gibbs said as gently as he could, although he knew it didn't really matter how he broke the news to her, nothing was going to make this easier for her. He held out his arms, fully expecting Abby to launch herself at him, and was surprised when she didn't move. She just stood there, frozen, staring at him as tears coursed down her face, immobile and silent. Gibbs went over to her, and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in close, and he held her tight as he promised, "We're going to get him back, Abs. You'll see. We're going to get him back. We always do. I promise. It's going to be just fine."

"It's NOT going to be just fine," Abby spat, suddenly angry at the world, and taking it out on Gibbs, as she pulled her head back far enough so she could look him in the eye. "How can you say that? This can't keep happening Gibbs. It just can't!" her voice broke on the last sentence, as she buried her head back into Gibbs' chest, encircling him with her arms as she pressed in closer, and finally gave in to the sobs that had been threatening to overtake her.

Gibbs held her as she shook, rubbing a hand soothingly up and down her back, murmuring reassurances that they would find Tony, and everything would be okay. As he held her he briefly looked up, acknowledging Jenny, who had entered the lab just moments ago, and now stood watching, along with Ziva and McGee, who looked decidedly uncomfortable.

This wasn't the first time they'd seen this side of Gibbs, and witnessed his uncharacteristic tolerance of Abby's need for physical reassurance; they understood that his relationship with Abby was unique, but that didn't seem to help them reconcile the patient, gentle man in front of them with the gruff and demanding man they dealt with on a daily basis. Jenny, on the other hand, understood it far better. As she looked at Gibbs and Abby, locked in a tight embrace, as he offered soft reassurances, she felt a momentary pang of jealousy, and immediately felt guilty. She knew Gibbs saw Abby as a surrogate daughter, someone who could unlock that part of him that had almost died along with Kelly. She understood Abby's almost inconsolable panic every time something happened to Tony. She'd read the files on the Jeffers case when she took the job as Director, eager to know as much as she could about all of Gibbs' team members. She knew that was the root of Abby's overbearing protectiveness of Tony, although she would never mention it to either them or Gibbs. Knowing this couldn't be allowed to continue, Jenny was just about to interrupt them, when Abby once again lifted her head.

"He needs a LoJack, Gibbs!!! When you get him back, we're having Ducky implant one in him, even if you have to sit on him to make him hold still. This has got to stop! At least with a LoJack, we'll always know where he is," as she spoke, the tears started again. Wiping at her eyes furiously, rubbing the already running black mascara and eyeliner all over her face, she demanded, "A LoJack, Gibbs, promise me!"

"Yeah, Abs. We'll get him a tracker. Just as soon as we have him back; I promise. But you have to pull yourself together now, Abs. We need your help to find him. We've got evidence that needs processing, and you and McGee need to finish running those computer searches," Gibbs reminded her gently.

Abby took a few hiccuppy deep breaths, and then nodded resolutely, "You're right. I need to wash my face, then I'm going to track those pricks down, so you can shoot them dead." She spun on her heels and headed towards the washroom.

Gibbs watched her leave, then turned to face Jenny. He knew why she was down here. She'd probably had someone at the front desk alert her the minute he'd returned to NCIS, knowing what she had to say would be better done in person. Jenny didn't disappoint. The minute Abby had cleared the room, she said, "Jethro, you know I have to pull you off the case. You and your team can't be the ones to investigate this. It's too personal now, too easy to let emotions get in the way, cloud your judgment. We can't risk that. What if one of you over-reacted and jeopardized Tony's safety? No one should ever have to deal with a case that involves one of their own."

'One of their own,' Gibbs thought bitterly. 'I will always defend one of my team. But Tony's more than that. He IS my own, even if no one besides Abby and Ducky knows it.' There was no way Gibbs was going to let anyone else handle the case. He couldn't entrust Tony's life to some one else. He knew he'd get only one shot at convincing Jenny of this, and he needed to sound calm, professional and reasoned when he presented his case to her. "We've been in this situation too many times to count, both before you became Director and since. You know that nothing will get in the way of our finding Tony, and no one in this entire organization is better qualified to investigate this case. My team has been on the job since Kreiger approached Ziva, and we've accomplished more since Friday night than the FBI did in more than a week. This team will solve this case, this team will find Tony, and this team is our best chance to bring him home. You're right, we won't be objective. We are more motivated than any other team could possibly be, because he's ours. NCIS is your responsibility, but Tony is mine, as are Ziva, McGee, Abby, Ducky, Palmer and for that matter, you. I would take it personally, no matter who had been taken, but the fact that these bastards took MY Senior Field Agent, that says they know we're investigating. I think they took him to find out what we know, how far we've gotten, and where we are headed. He won't talk. That may buy him some time, but eventually they'll have to kill him, so we have to get to them before that happens. Nobody else stands a chance in hell, Jen. It has to be us. It will be us."

Gibbs had locked eyes with Jenny before he had started, and once he was through, they continued to study each other, while the rest of the room held its collective breath. McGee, Ziva and Abby, who'd come back in during Gibbs' speech, exchanged a quick glance. That was the most any of them had ever heard Gibbs say at one time, and his words, and the determination behind them, left no doubt; they would be the ones to solve this case and find Tony, now the only question that remained would be whether they did it with the Director's sanction, or behind her back.

Finally, Jenny looked away and sighed. "Fine. I doubt if I could stop you anyway, and at least this way I'll know what you find out. But I want to be briefed every step of the way, and you don't go after anyone without informing me first, no matter what the time of day. Do I make myself clear?" she said firmly.

"Crystal clear, Director," Gibbs answered.

"Well then, don't just stand here wasting time, get to work," she said, and turned to leave. She had just reached the door when Gibbs cell phone began to ring, and she stopped to listen.

Gibbs listened for a moment, and then said, "I'll be right up." As he closed the phone, he looked at the others and said, "Fornell, Morgan, and Templeton are at the front desk. I'll go up and get them. McGee, you help Abby. Check on the tow truck bringing in Tony's car from Barker's, and make sure to get his backpack out of it or we'll never hear the end of it. Ziva, you're with me." Ziva, Jenny and Gibbs headed for the elevator. As the elevator doors were closing, Abby and McGee could hear the Director saying something to Gibbs about making sure his team took time to eat something nutritious. Looking at each other and grimacing, McGee asked Abby, "Do you still have that Red Bull and those energy bars down here?"


	17. Chapter 17

"**A Friend in Need" – Chapter Seventeen**

Fornell sat in the Bureau car's front passenger seat on the way to the Navy Yard, worrying. While they were stuck in rush hour traffic, he was mentally reviewing everything he knew about the case, trying to see if there was any avenue of investigation they'd missed. Liz Templeton sat behind him, fast asleep. She'd drifted off not long after they'd gotten into the car, and Tobias was hoping the little nap might help her sort through her memories of what had happened. Morgan sat beside Templeton, his knee bouncing up and down, as he tried to deal with his impatience; they had been sitting in the barely moving traffic for the last twenty five minutes. 'At the rate we aren't going, we'll be lucky to get to NCIS by seven o'clock,' Tobias thought. His estimate wasn't far off, since it was 6:54 when Primus pulled up in front of the entrance to NCIS's headquarters. "Go ahead and get a quick bite to eat," Fornell told the young agent, "but hang around in the area, in case we need to go somewhere else. I'll call your cell to let you know when you can take off, or if we need you." Barely waiting for the young man to nod his acknowledgement of the order, he climbed out of the car.

When they entered the lobby, Tobias went directly to the security desk. He showed the guard his ID and asked him to notify Special Agent Gibbs that he was there; then he, Morgan, and Liz went to sit down while they waited. In just a few minutes, Gibbs appeared. He greeted the three FBI agents briefly, and then asked, "Coffee?" Both Morgan and Fornell nodded, but Liz, who didn't think her stomach would tolerate coffee, asked if she could have water. Gibbs nodded at her, and then headed over to the snack kiosk, where he ordered four coffees and a bottle of water. After he had the drinks - the coffees safely secured in a drink holder, with a supply of creamers and sugars in the center, and the bottle of water tucked into a jacket pocket – he crossed back over to Tobias and his agents, and indicated that they should follow him, as he led them to the elevator.

They rode to the bullpen in an uneasy silence, and when they got there Ziva was waiting by her desk. Upon seeing Gibbs, she said, "We're in 4." Gibbs led the way down a hallway to conference room four, with Ziva and the three FBI agents following in his wake. As soon as they entered, Gibbs put the drink carrier on the table, then pulled the bottled water out of his pocket, and handed it to Templeton. He then distributed the other coffees, keeping one for himself, and told the others to help themselves to the sweetener and creamer in the tray, after he had handed Ziva two packets of sugar.

"Toda," Ziva said to him, with a grateful nod.

"Al lo davar," Gibbs responded automatically. He then looked at the FBI agents, and said, "Ed, Liz, this is Officer Ziva David, NCIS' Mossad liaison. Ziva, Special Agent in Charge Ed Morgan, and his team member, Special Agent Liz Templeton," Gibbs introduced. The three agents shook hands and exchanged greetings.

Liz looked at Gibbs in confusion. She was surprised by the fact that Gibbs seemed to know Hebrew, and couldn't understand why they needed the Mossad. "You think there's a terrorist component to the kidnappings?" she asked incredulously.

Gibbs shook his head and said, "No, Ziva's one of mine. She's here as a member of my team."

Liz managed a quiet, "Oh, I see," even as she felt a pang of jealousy. 'Gibbs is claiming this woman as one of his own, a foreigner, not even a real NCIS agent. Hell, he even knows how she takes her coffee. He clearly wants her on his team! What in the hell did he think was wrong with me? Maybe he couldn't appreciate having a real agent on his team?' she wondered indignantly to herself.

While Liz was silently brooding, Morgan had stepped closer to Gibbs and quietly said, "I'm really sorry about DiNozzo, Gibbs. He was out there, trying to find the bastards that hurt my people, while you all are protecting one of mine from them right now. We're going to do anything we can to help you get him back."

"Appreciated, but this isn't your fault, Ed," Gibbs assured him. "And we're going to get DiNozzo back; you can bank on that!" The smile he gave Morgan made the FBI agent glad he was on Gibbs' side.

Ziva added calmly, "It is what we do, Special Agent Morgan. The kidnappers erred when they took one of us, but we will rectify that error shortly." Her voice conveyed the conviction that what she said would be made true.

Liz felt a shiver run up her spine as she listened to the Mossad agent. The woman was clearly a killer, just like all the rest of those Mossad assassins, and yet, Gibbs wanted her - claimed her as his own. She didn't get it at all. A pampered goth princess, a hostile MIT computer geek, a preppy spoiled rich kid cop, and now, a trained murderer – this was who Gibbs wanted on his team? And Director Shepard, the woman clearly thought the sun shone out of all their asses! Well, Gibbs could keep them, all of them. She was better off where she was, where people acted like professionals, followed a chain of command, and where things made sense.

"Have you remembered anything else, Liz?" Gibbs asked her, interrupting her thoughts, and pulling her back into the present.

Liz shook her head in frustration. "Not really, I remember canvassing the houses, and then nothing, until I woke up and the paramedics were there."

Liz saw the flash of irritation, and something else she couldn't identify, streak across his face, before he schooled his expression and said, "Okay, let's try this. Tell me everything you did from the minute you got to Barker's, until you got attacked."

Liz took a deep breath to center herself, and then started. "DiNozzo and I got there a little before one, and decided to split up the complex. He took the south side and I took the north. That way we could speed up the process, but still maintain line of sight on each other. "

"You decided to split up?" Ziva interrupted her by asking. That didn't make any sense to Ziva. One thing Gibbs always stressed was the need to stick with your partner, and Tony rarely deviated from Gibbs' operating procedures.

Liz caught the slight censure in the Mossad officer's voice, and quickly said, "It was DiNozzo's idea."

Gibbs grunted in response to that assertion. If Tony had suggested they split up, he'd be willing to bet it was because Templeton was acting up, and Tony either couldn't take it anymore, or was afraid it would interfere with their assignment. Not for the first time that evening, he berated himself for agreeing to let Templeton be the liaison for the FBI. Maybe if he'd sent McGee or Ziva with Tony….. Gibbs forcibly halted that line of thought. It wasn't going to solve anything, and it sure as hell wasn't going to get Tony back.

When Gibbs grunted, Liz hurried on with her recitation of the day's events, not wanting Gibbs to have a chance to critisize her. "We weren't getting anywhere. A lot of people weren't home, and those that were, didn't know anything about Barker, other than he lived in the neighborhood. No one could even remember when they last saw him."

"There wasn't anyone else around, aside from the people you were questioning?" Gibbs asked.

"No, not really. Some kids, and that guy from the lawn service….Wait a minute!" Liz said excitedly, as something occurred to her. "I was just leaving one house, and moving on to the next, and this guy in a pair of coveralls with a lawn service cap on, carrying a clipboard, walked past me, then I don't remember anything. He had to be the one! He was who attacked me!"

"What can you remember about him?" Ziva asked, leaning forward.

"He was tall, maybe 6' to 6'1", and well built, but not overly muscular, maybe only about 180-190 lbs., solid, not stocky. His hair was either dark blonde or light brown, it was kind of hard to tell since he was wearing that ball cap. Oh, the cap said 'Lawn Order,' I remember that because it made me think of 'Law and Order.' And he had sunglasses on, so I didn't see his eyes," Liz said, as she strained to remember more details. "He had work gloves of some sort on, I remember that. Damn it! That's about all I can remember."

"That's good, Liz. Real good," Morgan assured her. "Take a second, maybe more will come to you."

Gibbs bit his tongue, wanting to contradict the FBI team leader. It wasn't good enough. That description wasn't going to get them an ID. They already knew the perps had been in a black van with lawn service logos; the kid with the skateboard had told them that already. At least now they had the name, though he doubted that would lead them anywhere. He'd be willing to bet the name was most likely a slam at them. "Go add that to the BOLO, and get McGee back up to the bullpen and see if you can find anything about a business by that name," he said to Ziva, even though he doubted they would. Ziva rose immediately, picking up her coffee as she said, "On it, Boss," and strode from the room.

"Do you think you could work with a sketch artist to get a better description?" Gibbs asked Liz, as Ziva left the room.

Liz shook her head, "I don't think so. I really didn't pay that much attention. Just enough to get a general impression of the guy."

Once again Gibbs had to clamp down on his impatience. It was Templeton's job to pay attention, particularly when she was working with a partner! Gibbs tried asking her a few more questions about the man, but wasn't getting anywhere. Finally, he announced they should take a break, and they all wandered back out into the bull pen. When they got there, his phone rang. Gibbs answered, and then listened. It was the front desk, calling to tell him a padded envelope had been delivered for him, and asking if they should send it up. "No. I'll be down to get it in a second," Gibbs responded, and when he hung up he told the others, who were in the break room, busy topping off their coffee, that he'd be right back.

Gibbs went and retrieved the envelope from the guard, which was addressed to him, with no return information on it, and headed straight down to Abby's lab. He wasn't about to open up a package from an unknown source without taking precautions. What had happened to Tony several years ago, had taught them all that lesson, he thought bitterly as he headed down. After Abby put it under the vapor hood and determined there wasn't anything dangerous in it, only a DVD, Gibbs kissed her on the check by way of thanks, and headed back up to the bullpen, with Abby trailing along. She felt lost without McGee working alongside her, and wanted to be where she could see that the rest of the team was safe and here.

When Gibbs got there, he saw that McGee was now back at his desk, and Gibbs tossed the DVD at him, telling him to check it out, then he went to round up the FBI team. After a quick scan to make sure the DVD was safe, McGee punched play, and projected the contents up on the large plasma. Gibbs, who was walking back towards his desk, with Morgan, Fornell and Templeton in tow, froze when he saw what was on the screen. There, in vivid Technicolor, was Tony, hanging limply from two chains, his wrists cuffed, wearing nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs. As he stood, frozen in horror, the camera zoomed in. Gibbs could see a nasty bruise on Tony's stomach, and blood dripping from some welts on his side. Then the camera began to circle around Tony's body, and Gibbs had to force himself not to howl with rage. The blood curdling scream that rang through the bullpen indicated that Abby had not been as successful. Tony's back and thighs were covered in whip marks, many of which were oozing blood, and they could literally see the bruises spread as they watched. While he was still trying to steady himself, a synthesized voice came over the tape and announced, "Special Agent Gibbs, as long as NCIS continues to investigate Melissa Carter's kidnapping, NCIS Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo will pay for your interference. If you want your Senior Field Agent back, alive and in one piece, you will cease and desist from your involvement in this matter."

As the voice stopped speaking, the whip flew through the air, landing with a sickening thud against Tony's back, causing him to grunt in pain, as he weakly jerked away from the blow. He refused to scream, and the effort that took was impressive.

Abby cried out again when the whip struck Tony, launching herself into Gibbs' arms. Gibbs wrapped her up tight, and looked at the rest of his team. McGee was pale, clearly working hard to hide his dismay, and even though he wasn't totally successful, Gibbs was proud of him. Ziva, who was standing next to him, was a different matter. Her eyes had narrowed, he saw cold fury and resolution in them. Her face was as hard as granite. Still holding on to Abby, Gibbs leaned in to Ziva and said in a low voice, "You will not kill them Ziva. We need them alive, so we can find Tony." He waited for her to respond, and when she stood, still staring at the still image of Tony on the screen, he continued. "That's an order Ziva. Do you understand me? When we get our hands on them, you can hurt them as much as needed, but you will not kill them. Understood?"

When Ziva turned to look at him, Gibbs could see her inner turmoil, but after a second she nodded stiffly, and answered, "Yes, I understand."

Abby's scream had propelled Jenny down the stairs from the balcony over the bullpen. She had watched the screen with barely contained fury. When the image of Tony froze after the whip had struck, she moved over to Gibbs, who held a still weeping Abby in his arms. "Is that a live feed, Jethro?" she asked coldly.

"No, it's a DVD," he answered, his voice flat and expressionless. "It was dropped off at the front desk for me. They should have the name of the delivery company, and the time it arrived," he said, as he turned to McGee, but the younger agent was already headed for the stairs.

"On it, Boss," McGee said.

Jenny gave Gibbs and Ziva, who stood at attention by his side, a long hard look. Speaking softly, she said "You can't kill them Jethro, no matter how much you want to. There are too many people who just saw this," she paused to look around at the small crowd of appalled agents who had congregated to see what was happening. "There would be too many questions we couldn't answer," she added, barely above a whisper.

Jenny could hardly hear Abby's response, which was muffled by Gibbs' chest, "Not if no one ever found the bodies."

Ziva quickly jumped in, before Jenny could comment. In a loud, clear voice she said, "Agent Gibbs has just given orders that they are to be found, and brought in for questioning, alive and able to talk. That order will be carried out, Director," she said. Jenny nodded, and as she turned to speak with Fornell, she thought to herself that Ziva was a smart agent, and Gibbs was lucky to have her on his team.

When Ziva had spoken, Abby had untangled herself from around Gibbs, and moved to pull Ziva into an unrelenting hug. "You have to be careful. Don't get hurt, and don't get dead. That's an order. And make sure Gibbs and Timmy don't get hurt or dead, either. Tony's not here right now to watch their sixes, so you have to do it. Promise me!" Her voice broke a little at the end.

"I promise you," Ziva said, trying to breath.

"Good," Abby said, and after another quick squeeze, released the other woman. "I'm holding you to that, and I know you'd never let me down. So I'm not going to worry." The look she gave Ziva was both an order and an expression of faith. Ziva nodded again, thankful that Abby had let her go. After a rocky start, Ziva had grown to truly like Abby, but no matter how deeply she cared for the other woman, she was still uncomfortable every time Abby was overtly demonstrative. It was the antithesis of how Ziva had been taught to conduct herself, having grown up in a home where you were punished if you lost control of your emotions, for what ever reason. Although she was sometimes envious of Abby's lack of inhibition, she hadn't yet learned to relax and fully accept it.

Liz had been standing next to Morgan, watching everything that was happening, unsure how to react. She was on sensory overload. She was appalled at what the DVD had shown. She might not like DiNozzo, and even think his own negligence had led to his being captured, but she wasn't inhuman enough not to be affected by what she'd just seen. Although in her mind's eye, it did reinforce her belief that he had no business being a federal agent. She'd never found herself in a situation like that, 'never would either,' she told herself. Yet it had happened at least twice to DiNozzo, so clearly he was doing something grossly wrong. Abby had reacted exactly as she would have expected her to, although she had been surprised when the goth had pulled the Mossad agent in for a hug. Abby would certainly never have done that to her. But it was Gibbs' and Officer David's reactions that had Liz's head spinning. She'd happened to glance at them, right after the disk had stopped, and saw the look they had exchanged. It was impossible to tell which of them had looked more lethal. Lots of people had been described as being dangerous, but that pair transcended that word. She'd seen Gibbs lean over and whisper something to the assassin, as she stood rigid at his side, and Liz had actually shivered. She wouldn't want to be the person that got in either of their way as they set out to find DiNozzo.

Feeling claustrophobic, the tension in the room suddenly threatening to overwhelm her, Liz sought out Fornell. She desperately needed to leave. The day had proved to be too much for her, and she wasn't going to be able to take much more. Tobias must have realized this, because when Liz asked if she was needed any longer, he told her that she could leave, although he and Morgan were going to stay and help with the search for DiNozzo. He even offered to have Primus drive her home. Liz had thanked him, and after saying her good byes to Morgan, she had quietly escaped the bullpen, and gone down to wait in front of the building for Primus to pick her up.

The fresh air served to revive Liz a bit, and when Primus asked her where she was headed, Liz decided to go back to Bethesda, to help with the vigil for Merit and Langer, wanting to do something constructive, and not wanting to be alone.

When Liz got up to the waiting room, she saw that nothing much had changed since last she'd been there. That was the way it was, people came and went, bringing food and drink for those already there, spending time keeping vigil, or merely briefly checking in to show support and to get an update on Merit and Langer. The coffee tables were laden with offerings; bagels, pretzels, brownies, and coffee, tea, and bottled water; disproving the old adage that food soothed the soul, as the people that waited were anything but serene.

Liz nodded stiffly at Asst. Director Marshall, and some of the other agents in the room that she knew, then moved a little ways apart and sank down into a chair. Marshall had gone over to her, to check on how she was doing, and to urge her to go home and rest, as she looked completely done in. After thanking him for his concern, she'd rebuffed his suggestion that she leave, saying it was her duty to be there. He'd been about to argue with her, when Captain DeAngelo entered the room, carrying a bag of deli sandwiches and a twelve pack of water. Marshall excused himself, and stood to greet the man.

The men talked softly together for quite a while, then after patting Marshall on the back, DeAngelo began to move around the room, quietly chatting with the other agents there, offering food and drink, and a few words of encouragement. The fact that he knew many of the agents by name, and was able to ask after their families or team members was a testament to how much time DeAngelo had been spending at Bethesda over the last several days. When he got to Liz, he once again offered water and a sandwich. Liz readily accepted the water, but shook her head at the proffered bag of sandwiches. Her stomach had not settled down yet, and the combination of stale air, food odors, and tension had caused her headache to return in full force, and she was beginning to question the wisdom in coming here, even though the thought of returning to her empty apartment held little appeal either. In addition, she couldn't shake the horror of the scene at NCIS – DiNozzo's torture, and the blood thirsty unspoken responses of Gibbs and his team unsettling her even further.

DeAngelo surprised Liz, when, after her refusal of the food, instead of moving on, he sat in the chair next to her. "I heard what happened this afternoon, and I'm very sorry for the loss of the NCIS agent," he said. "I hope you weren't hurt too badly."

Liz shook her head, "No, I just took a hit from a stun gun, so really the only damage was a severe headache."

"That can be bad enough, especially after all you've been through over the last couple of days. Director Marshall tells me you just returned from NCIS, where you were helping out with their efforts to find their man. That shows real fortitude on your part. I hope you don't mind me saying this, Agent, but you don't look too well. I really think you should be home, in bed, getting some rest," DeAngelo said kindly.

Liz sighed, and looked at the Metro police captain. The kindness and concern she saw in his eyes, melted some of her defenses, and after taking a shaky breath, she admitted, "You may be right. I thought I would be better being here, around other people, but the longer I sit here, the worse I feel. Maybe I should go home and try to get some sleep."

"Would you like me to give you a ride home? You don't look as if you're up to driving yourself," DeAngelo offered, secretly hoping she'd accept so he could learn a little more about the NCIS investigation.

Liz looked at him, stunned by the generosity he was showing towards her, and surprised to discover that for some reason, she didn't feel the need to put on a brave face for him. "That would be wonderful, actually," she said. "My car's still back at NCIS headquarters, and I'm not sure I'm up to going and getting it, then driving myself home," she admitted.

Marshall stood quietly watching the interaction between Liz and DeAngelo, thinking about how indebted the FBI was to the police captain. He was up here as much as any Bureau employee, always bringing food and well wishes. He'd worked hard to push the BOLO's both NCIS and the FBI had issued on the case, and now, he'd actually succeeded in talking Templeton into going home to rest. He continued to go over and above what was expected of him as Metro's FBI liaison, and Marshall was impressed by the man's integrity and dedication.

DeAngelo waited patiently while Liz stood and gathered up her belongings, and when she faltered slightly in her step, he reached out and gently took her by the elbow, offering his support as he said a brief farewell to Marshall and the other agents, and led her out to his car. DeAngelo helped her into the passenger side of the car, shut the door, and as he walked slowly around to his side, he reached into his suit jacket pocket, and pushed the button that turned on the miniature voice activated tape recorder he always kept there. This was his chance to find out exactly what was going on with Gibbs' investigation, and he wasn't going to waste it. Plus, if he had the conversation on tape, there would be no way anyone could question the veracity of what he reported.

After they'd started off, and Liz had given him directions to her home, DeAngelo thought about how he could steer the conversation in the right direction. "You must be pretty shook up after being attacked with a stun gun, Agent Templeton," he began.

"Please, call me Liz. And you're right, it wasn't fun," she agreed, "but I actually think it was what happened later that bothers me the most."

DeAngelo glanced over at her in confusion. "Later?" he asked. "What do you mean? Did something else happen to you?"

"Not to me, no," Liz said, and then paused, wondering how she was going to explain what she meant. Usually she wouldn't talk about something like this, but today had left her so off balance, she found she needed to share her concerns with someone impartial, and DeAngelo was as close to that as she was likely to get. "Have you ever heard the term 'they had death in their eyes'?" she asked.

DeAngelo gripped the steering wheel tighter, as he attempted to hide his alarm. 'Christ, had Barker and his men fucked up again?!' he panicked. "You saw your attackers?" he asked, trying to sound solicitous.

"No. No, actually, I didn't. It all happened so fast, I don't remember it at all. No, I didn't mean them, I...just..." she stopped talking. She rubbed at her temple, trying to ease the pounding in her head, as she thought about what to say to DeAngelo, since she wasn't sure how much he knew about the ongoing investigation.

DeAngelo prodded, as gently as he could, needing to know what she was talking about. Something shook up a veteran FBI agent to the point she was practically in shock, and he needed to know what was going on so he could report to Peter and the others. "Liz, you can talk to me. I've been in this business a long time, so nothing you say is going to shock me. It always seems to help to get it out, believe me, and then you'll be able to really get some rest."

If Liz had been less exhausted, she would have been more circumspect in her ramblings, but the whole day had just overwhelmed her, and her need to vent overtook her common sense. Liz sighed again, and then she said, "I was over at NCIS, and a DVD was delivered to Gibbs. It was from the kidnappers, and....it showed DiNozzo being beaten....with a whip. It...it was...it was horrible. But as bad as that was, when I looked over at Gibbs' team, that was worse. The first thing that occurred to me was that phrase, 'death in their eyes.' If Gibbs or that woman who works for him, that Ziva from Mossad, could have gotten anywhere near those people hurting DiNozzo, they would have killed them. I mean....forget arresting them, forget trying them, forget the law, or..... they would have killed them, with their bare hands. Abby.... Jesus Christ... Abby... she's, do you know her?"

DeAngelo shook his head, then said, "No, I don't. Who is Abby?"

Liz had drifted for a second, so DeAngelo said again, "Liz, who is Abby?" He needed her to tell him everything.

Liz shook her head and resumed talking, "She's their forensic specialist. She's tight with DiNozzo. They're...I don't know how to explain it, but he saved her life a long time ago, got hurt doing it, so... there's this hero worship thing they have ... but it's more ...they're tight. She brags she can kill somebody and leave no forensic evidence, and that no one will ever find a body. I always thought she was just bragging, you know ... that it was just... something she said to get attention ... but… I looked in her eyes when that DVD was showing DiNozzo being beaten, and Captain.... she wasn't kidding, she wasn't bragging ... she wanted those people dead. She was crying and clinging to Gibbs, and oh God….his eyes.... I've never seen anything that scary ... in my entire life. I've interviewed serial killers who had more warmth in their eyes than Gibbs did at that moment. Really, that phrase ... 'death in their eyes' that whole team had it. Gibbs, Ziva, Abby, even that kid, McGee...and the look on the Director's face, when she saw that DVD... she won't stop them, you know. She'll figure out a way to cover it up. Those people are going to die. Nobody's going to have to worry about sufficient evidence, or a prosecutable case, because they won't be brought to trial, they probably won't even make it into custody. They're all going to die, resisting arrest - that's what they'll say, and they're going to be in bad shape when they die. Captain, those people are scary. They're supposed to be the good guys, and they're scarier than the kidnappers."

Templeton's story of what had happened when the DVD was delivered rocked DeAngelo to the core. He'd been afraid of this, had tried to explain that taking DiNozzo would be a mistake, but as usual, Peter hadn't listened. Everyone who knew Gibbs had stories about him, some good, some bad, but all of them painted a picture of a man who never gave up. And now, Gibbs was gunning for them. If Templeton's recounting of events over at NCIS was true, and he had no reason to doubt it, then Peter had signed all of their death warrants by taking the NCIS agent.

Templeton was still talking, but DeAngelo realized he had missed some of it, not really worried, because he'd hear it on the recording, but he tuned back in as she was saying, "....when I worked for him, but I guess he found people who are willing to go along. I mean, everybody else is supposed to follow the rules, but Gibbs, forget it, the only rules he follows are his own."

Richard mentally shook his head, and felt compelled to ask, "You worked for Gibbs? At NCIS?"

"Yeah, about 7 years ago. Only for a month, then I transferred right back to the FBI. He's impossible. He was all Lone Ranger, and never explained what he was doing...he expects everybody to work 24/7 and always be available at a moment's notice...he gets fixated on cases, and won't let go...he's...I mean... yeah, he's the best, Agent of the Year every year since forever...but...Christ, he's....it's always his way or the highway...I mean..DiNozzo, Jesus....Gibbs brought him in, for saving Abby... he hired him away from Baltimore Homicide, and....I mean, seven years...I didn't think he'd last a week. But they're tight, and I thought it was about Abby, but Jesus, if you could have seen Gibbs' face.... "

Templeton was rambling, not making a lot of sense, and DeAngelo wanted to get Templeton home, get her out of his car, and get over to the mansion so he could make Peter listen to the recording. They had to let DiNozzo go, they had to, if they had a hope in hell of surviving this newest disaster.


	18. Chapter 18

"**A Friend in Need" – Chapter Eighteen**

**Special Thanks **go out to MJMCCA who so kindly offered her medical expertise.

Tony lay on the cot in the locked room, his eyes half open, staring out at nothing. He had been drifting in and out of consciousness for so long he no longer really knew which was which. The pain had become his only reality, and it didn't seem to care whether he was awake or asleep. It encircled him, swallowed him, absorbed his very being. The room was dark, although he wasn't sure if that was because there was no light, or because his eyes refused to open, and the only sounds he could hear were his own gasps, as he struggled for breath, and the phantom cracking of the whip. He was shivering, which he couldn't understand, since his skin felt like it was on fire. At one point he had tried to sit up, only to discover he couldn't move but didn't know why, didn't realize he was cuffed to the side of the hard cot he'd been tossed on when his torment had ended. His mouth was dry, and he longed for water, but didn't have the strength to ask, and wasn't sure if there was anyone there who would hear his request. He was even less sure of whether he wanted there to be.

* * *

Gibbs forced himself to look away from the plasma screen that kept drawing his eyes like a magnet. Staring at it wasn't going to solve anything. He turned, about to ask McGee if there was a way to isolate the background picture and sounds to see if they could get a hint as to where Tony was, when he remembered he'd sent him down to get the information on who had delivered the DVD. 'Have to get my head back in the game!' he silently berated himself. Glancing around the room he saw that Ziva and Abby were talking quietly with each other over by the Mossad agent's desk, and Jenny was across the room, having a discussion with Morgan and Fornell. The crowd of agents that had gathered when the DVD had first been played had dispersed, probably at Jenny's urging, although everywhere he looked he saw people sending surreptitious, frightened glances in his direction. Gibbs wondered how long he'd been standing there, studying Tony's image, totally engrossed to the point he hadn't noticed any of their movements.

"Jethro, a word please?" Jenny called to him, as she began to walk in his direction.

Gibbs walked over towards his desk, meeting the director half way in her route towards him, and answered, "Yeah Jen?"

"I was just talking to Tobias and Agent Morgan. Do you really need them both here? We both know what Abby and McGee are going to have to do to help with the investigation. Don't you think it might be better if we sent Morgan back over to Bethesda, to be with his wounded agents? The less people that witness …"

"Yeah, you're right, I'll talk to him," Gibbs cut her off. He understood her reference and agreed that Morgan had to leave. If he wasn't so distracted by the images on the screen, he would have realized it himself. Abby and McGee weren't going to let anything like federal and international privacy laws get in their way as they searched electronically for Tony's captors. Fornell had opted in when he handed over his laptop, but it wasn't really fair to put Morgan in that position.

"And Jethro?" Jenny said. "I meant what I said earlier. I know you're going to do everything possible to get Tony back, but make sure you don't do anything we can't explain, later."

"I hear you Jen," Gibbs said, not willing to promise any more.

Jenny nodded her head, knowing her point had been made. "I'll be up in my office if you need anything. Keep me in the loop," she said as she moved away.

McGee had returned while Gibbs and the Director had been speaking. He was now at his desk, typing madly into his computer, with Abby and Ziva standing behind him, watching his screen avidly as information flew past. "Boss, have the info on the package. It got dropped off just a couple of minutes before you picked it up, but it looks like its going to be a dead end. It's a courier company that works off of dead drop boxes. You have to have an account, but that's easy to arrange without leaving any real information. I'm betting these guys are too smart to do anything like give out real information that could be used to track them," he said.

"Let Ziva work that angle, McGee. You and Abby need to get back down to her lab and keep going on trying to track the next victim, and all those that accessed those people's files. I need you two to do everything you can to find these people for me, now!" Gibbs growled.

"What if we can't?!" Abby cried, "and they hurt Tony more? It'll be all our fault! Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!" she started to chant, as the tears began to stream once again.

"Abby, get a hold of yourself," Gibbs ordered sternly, as he moved over to stand in front of her. Cupping her chin with his hand, forcing her to look up at him, he said, "Nothing will be your fault, Abs. You didn't do _anything_ to cause this, but I know you, and I'm betting you're going to be the one to _solve_ it, because you and McGee ARE the best. That's not pressure, that's just a fact. Got it?" Abby nodded her head, as Gibbs continued to hold her chin. Satisfied, Gibbs let go, and said, "Let's get to it, people. Oh, McGee, take that damned DVD with you, and see if you can isolate anything that will be useful to us, any sound or image that will tell us where they are."

"On it, Boss," McGee responded.

Abby and McGee hurried off towards her lab, after McGee gave Ziva the information on the courier company, and Gibbs crossed over to the FBI agents. "Tobias," he said, "might be best if Morgan went back over to Bethesda. There isn't a lot for him to do here until something breaks, and we can call him back in then, if we need him." When Morgan opened his mouth to disagree, Gibbs added, "Ed, you're going to be more help to Brent and Merit right now, than to my team. Let them do their jobs, and you go take care of your people."

"Yeah, okay. You're right," Morgan agreed. "I'll call Primus to come pick me up. You let me know if there is anything I can do Gibbs. Anything," he reiterated, and Gibbs nodded, thinking that Morgan was a good man, and that Brent was lucky to be on his team.

"I will Ed," Gibbs promised, as he clapped him on the back. "Come on, Tobias."

"Where are we going?" Fornell asked Gibbs.

"Down to the lab. Ducky's assistant is still here, and I want to talk to him about what to expect when we find DiNozzo, to find out if there's anything special we'll need medically," Gibbs answered, as he headed towards the elevator, with Tobias trailing along beside him.

* * *

DeAngelo yanked the shifter into park, and pulled the key from the ignition, then pushed himself out of the car. He'd called Peter on the drive out to Calverton, to let him know he was coming, and that he desperately needed to talk to him about 'the DiNozzo situation,' but had been unwilling to get into it on the phone, even when Peter had pushed him. He wanted to see the man, face to face, and watch him as he listened to the recording of his conversation with Liz Templeton, knowing he couldn't do her horror at Gibbs' reaction justice. He needed to get Peter to see reason or this was going to blow up in their faces if Peter kept pushing Gibbs. He didn't bother knocking on the front door when he got there, he just turned the handle and went in, calling out to Peter as he entered.

"In the kitchen," he could hear Peter answer, as he headed in that direction. When he got there, he found Peter leaning against the counter, talking to Barker and three of his men, who sat at the kitchen table in front of two open boxes of pizza, holding bottles of beer.

"I need to see you alone," he said, then, reconsidering the request, DeAngelo added, "you too, Barker." He hoped that Barker might prove to be an ally in this matter, since he had seemed in favor of cutting their losses and running this morning when they met.

"Let's go to the study, Richard," Peter suggested calmly, ignoring the worry etched onto the police captain's face.

Once they were in the study, with the door safely shut, Peter said, "Okay, what's this all about, Richard?"

"It's about DiNozzo, and Gibbs," DeAngelo hissed, he could hear his heart pounding in his ears. "I told you this was a bad idea before you even went through with it, and now Gibbs is out for blood." Being able to say it out loud had loosened the tight rein Richard had clamped down over his panic earlier, and his fear was mixed with anger towards Peter for putting them all in this position.

"What are you talking about, Richard?" Peter asked. "Has something happened?"

"Yes, something has happened. Your plan didn't work, and Gibbs is ready to declare open warfare on us. I have something you need to listen to, a tape from a conversation I had with the woman that was with DiNozzo when you grabbed him," Richard said, as he pulled out his recorder, and pressed play.

They all stood and listened, as Liz's voice came out of the speaker, and although the recorder lent a kind of tinny quality, there was no mistaking her shock at Gibbs' and his teams' reaction to the DVD. When she said, "they probably won't even make it into custody. They're all going to die, resisting arrest - that's what they'll say, and they're going to be in bad shape when they die," Barker blanched and cursed.

"Jesus fucking Christ! This is just what we need. We need to get out of this now, while we're all still alive!" he said vehemently to Peter. "That man sounds like he's crazy. I want my money, and I want out, now!"

Peter was furious. Furious with Richard for playing the tape in front of Barker – furious with Barker for being such a coward – and furious with Gibbs for ruining his plan and not doing what Peter wanted him to, but he couldn't afford to let that show. Not now, not until he had everything back under control. They were too close, too invested, and he wasn't going to let some Rambo type federal agent get in his way. Plus, he had a potential million dollars sitting in the guest room upstairs, just waiting to be claimed, and he wasn't going to quit until he had it. There were things that million dollars would buy him, and he wanted them, would have them! "You need to take a deep breath," he said to Barker. "Running off half cocked isn't going to make things better. We can't stop right now, not even if we wanted to. We've got Galvin upstairs in the guest room and I've already contacted his employer, letting him know what our demand is going to be, and he buckled right under. He won't be a problem. It doesn't make sense to quit now. Gibbs is going to be a pain in the ass, yes, no doubt, but we can deal with it. There is no way he can track us down. Aside from that girl seeing your face, we haven't done anything that will lead them to us. Sylvia's covered our tracks electronically every which way from Sunday, and you're safely hidden out here, so Gibbs can rant and rave all he wants – he isn't going to find us."

"You don't know these people," Richard began insistently, desperately.

"No, I don't," Peter agreed, interrupting him. "But I was in the FBI for years, and I knew plenty like them. Yes, he'd dangerous, but without a trail to follow, he can't do anything, no matter what he says."

"What about DiNozzo?" Barker asked, seeing there wasn't going to be any point in arguing with Phelps. The man refused to acknowledge the perilous situation they were in, no matter how many things pointed it up. He would have to think about what he was going to do later, when he was alone.

"We'll keep him for another day or so. If it looks like there's no way to use him to help control Gibbs, we'll kill him and dump him somewhere," Phelps answered calmly.

Barker and DeAngelo exchanged a look, but neither said a thing.

* * *

Jimmy Palmer was just finishing up for the day, sterilizing the instruments and doing some general clean up. He wanted everything to be perfect when his mentor returned tomorrow. It had been a strange day, being down here without Dr. Mallard. He'd been flattered that Dr. Mallard had enough confidence in him not to call in a replacement for the day, allowing Jimmy to work on his own. Although there had only been one body brought in that day, he'd been surprised by how busy he had been, working by himself. That served to highlight for him how much he and Dr. Mallard had become a team, seamlessly moving from one task to the next, without even needing to discuss it. He'd been so busy, in fact, that he hadn't even had time to go up and visit with Abby, or any of Gibbs' team, but he'd been a little surprised that none of them had come down to see him, either. Usually Abby or Tony stopped in at least once, just to say hello. That just magnified how much he missed the older man and his stories, the morgue had seemed empty and unnaturally quiet, which is funny when you think about who their "patients" were, he thought to himself. It had been a long journey to get to this point. When he'd first started, he'd been afraid that he'd never be allowed to do much more than carry the bags, and push the gurney, but slowly, over time, he'd been given more and more responsibility. Now, he was going to be sorry when he graduated from medical school, and had to leave the morgue behind to do his residency. He was considering whether he should follow in Dr. Mallard's foot steps, and join a branch of the Armed Forces when he graduated, see the world and start to make his own stories, when he heard the sliding doors open. Turning around, he saw Agents Gibbs and Fornell entering.

Jimmy swallowed, Gibbs always made him nervous. Once, he'd been afraid of the team leader, but now, that fear had turned to admiration, and an overeager need to please. Jimmy was no longer afraid that Gibbs would chew his head off, although he hadn't believed Tony the first one hundred times he'd told him that Gibbs' bark was worse than his bite. No, now he was afraid he'd do something to let the man down. Jimmy had once been jealous of Gibbs' and Dr. Mallard's friendship, but as he'd settled in to life at NCIS, and made a place for himself, he'd come to appreciate it. At times, he even fancied he was part of a kind of mirror image to them. He and Tony were becoming better and better friends, and he liked to fantasize that one day they'd be the next generation of 'Gibbs and Ducky', out working the most obscure cases together, the ones no one else could solve, Tony carrying an Armani travel cup full of coffee, and he wearing a black leather snap brim hat.

All thoughts of he and Tony as the next NCIS dynamic duo disappeared when Gibbs barked, "Palmer, I need to talk to you."

"Sure Agent Gibbs, what can I do for you?" he smiled widely and asked, wondering why Fornell was with the man, rather than one of the team, but knowing better than to ask.

Gibbs looked at the young man in surprise. He seemed so cheerful, a complete contrast to everyone up in the bullpen. Was it possible that no one had briefed him on what was going on? Thinking back over the chaos of the last couple of hours, he realized that it was more than possible, it was highly probable. Sighing softly, he said, "Jimmy, Tony was taken by the kidnappers this afternoon." He paused to give the young man a chance to absorb that news. "They sent us a DVD a little while ago, and I need you to watch it and give me a medical analysis of it."

"A medical analysis?" Jimmy asked with a frown, not understanding what Gibbs meant. Why would a DVD need a medical opinion?

"It's of Tony, Jimmy. And it isn't pretty. They whipped him severely, and it's hard to tell if he's even conscious. I want you to look at it, and tell me what condition Tony's likely to be in, and what kind of treatment he'll need, the minute we get him back. Do you think you can do that?" Gibbs asked, forcing Jimmy to look him in the eye.

Jimmy suddenly felt shaky. He knew that every time Gibbs and his team went out into the field, the possibility existed that one of them could be hurt, or worse. He'd even seen it happen, several times, in fact, yet it never got easier. "Of course," Jimmy said, hoping his voice didn't quiver. "I'll do my very best, sir, but, um, don't you think it would be better if you got Dr. Mallard to look at it? I mean, he knows a lot more than me."

"I don't want to worry him quite yet. There's no point in alarming him as there isn't anything he can do about the situation right now. We'll let him get some sleep tonight. The morning will be soon enough for him to be briefed. Besides, Ducky trusts you, and that's good enough for me," Gibbs told him.

Gibbs' last statement cut right through Jimmy, and wrapped around his spine like steel, making him feel braver, and more sure of himself. "Let's do it then," Jimmy said with conviction, nodding his head decisively, as he stood up straighter and squared his shoulders.

For the first time since he'd learned that Tony had been taken, Gibbs wanted to smile. Palmer's answer had just tickled him for some reason, part little boy bravado and part mature man, all wrapped up in four little words. He'd done a lot of growing up in the past couple of years, and Gibbs knew that Tony was fond of him. Clearly, the feeling was mutual, and Gibbs was proud of Palmer, proud of all his people, and the way they had each other's sixes. Palmer was fast becoming one of the team, instead of just the 'autopsy gremlin.' "It's up in Abby's lab," he told Palmer. "Fornell and I were just going there. Why don't you come with us and we can just watch it there," Gibbs told him.

Jimmy nodded, and followed the other two men to the elevator. As they rode up, Jimmy asked Gibbs about the case and how it was going, and Gibbs filled him in on what had happened recently, so by the time they got to Abby's lab, Palmer had a better understanding of what was at stake.

When they got to the lab, Abby and McGee were busily engaged in tapping away at their respective keyboards, and didn't even hear them enter. "McGee," Gibbs said, "any luck on isolating anything useful on the DVD?"

"Nothing Boss," McGee said, his discouragement evident in his voice. "The lights on Tony were so bright they blotted out any background images, and I couldn't get any useful sounds either. Had a brief shot of the guy with the whip once, but he was wearing something black and a face mask, so it wasn't any help."

Gibbs wanted to hurt something, but pushed down his frustration, knowing McGee would have given it his best efforts. "I brought Palmer up here to look at it. I want him to tell us what kind of shape Tony's going to be in when we find him, so we're prepared."

"Um, sure Boss," McGee said, but he wasn't at all sure how ready Palmer was to see the DVD, as he cued it up to the beginning. "It'll be up on the plasma screen," he said, nodding towards the large monitor that hung on the wall to his right, as he clicked on play.

Jimmy watched the scene unfold before his eyes, and found himself trying hard not to be physically sick. He'd seen a lot of gruesome things in his years with NCIS, but this was different. This wasn't some nameless stranger, who also happened to be dead and way past suffering. This was Tony - someone he respected and liked, someone he saw on a daily basis and joked around with, someone who was full of life and seemed so carefree, someone he'd even grabbed a few beers with recently. Palmer was having a hard time reconciling that Tony with the person on the screen. The person on the screen was bleeding and bruised, and unable to even lift his head. Palmer stared at the picture in horror, so shocked by what he was seeing that he didn't even really register on the voice-over that accompanied the picture, and when the whip cracked across Tony's back at the end, he gasped out loud and took a step back, his moan offering a tenor counterpart to the low, guttural groan that Tony made.

"Palmer!" Gibbs voice rang out, snapping him out of the trance he'd fallen into.

"Ssso…sorry," Palmer managed to say. "Um….um, how long ago was this made?" he asked, as he tried to get his bearings. Gibbs needed his advice, and more importantly, Tony needed his help. He had to do this - for them.

"We don't know. Probably within the last three or four hours, why?" Gibbs wanted to know.

"Well, I can tell you about what we see here, but Tony's going to be in a lot worse shape by the time you get to him," Palmer offered quietly.

"What do you mean?" Gibbs demanded, his stomach clinching.

Palmer summoned every ounce of clinical detachment he possessed, and continued, "As you can see, the bruising is extreme, so Tony will be in considerable pain, but we most likely are not seeing the full extent of it. It will have continued to spread and deepen over the last several hours. My guess would be that there won't be anywhere on his back side that can be touched without causing extreme discomfort. Some of the lacerations from the whip are extremely deep, and may even require suturing to close, if you get to him in time. That doesn't even take into account the likelihood of infection, which could start to set in within twelve hours from when this occurred. His shoulders may well be dislocated, as all his weight is hanging from them, but the biggest concern is probably his lungs. He seems to be having trouble catching his breath, which is understandable, but a bigger issue for Tony than other people, because of his medical history. If he's being kept somewhere cold or damp, bronchitis will likely set in, with pneumonia quickly following. He's also likely to be dehydrated, which won't help with lung issues, since it doesn't look like the people that have him are going to be too concerned with giving him food and water," Jimmy observed bitterly. "You need to get him back fast," he added, his voice breaking slightly, once again sounding more like the Palmer they all knew.

"Intend to," Gibbs said tightly. "So, what do we need to get ready from yours and Ducky's end?"

"We'll need lots of dressings and things to clean the wounds, and it would be best if Dr. Mallard could start him on oxygen, and fluids and antibiotics intravenously immediately," Palmer offered.

"Do you have those things?" Gibbs asked.

"Not the oxygen or IV fluids and antibiotics. We don't exactly need them for the people we deal with," Palmer answered.

Gibbs thought for a second. "I want you to call Dr. Brad Pitt, over at Bethesda. He's Tony's doctor for anything dealing with his lungs. Tell him what's going on, and I'm sure he'll make arrangements for you to get what you need. If you can't get hold of him, let me know, and we'll track him down. And Palmer, not a word to Ducky yet. I'll call him and let him know that Tony's been kidnapped, but the rest can wait. He can't do anything about it right now anyway."

"I understand," Palmer said. "I'll get on it right now," he added as he turned to head back to the morgue. He'd wanted to thank Gibbs out loud, thank him for saving Dr. Mallard the worry, and thank him for trusting him to take care of things, but instead, he knew the best thanks he could give was to make sure they were fully equipped to do everything possible for Tony when they got to him.

"I'm going up to check on how Ziva's search is coming along. Call me the minute you have something," Gibbs told McGee and Abby, as he and Fornell followed Palmer to the elevator.

Ziva was sitting at her desk, glaring at her computer when Gibbs and Fornell walked into the bullpen. "Report Ziva," Gibbs demanded.

"I do not have much to tell," she said in frustration. "I could find no reference to a real business called Lawn Order and have not had much more luck with the courier service, Fleet Deliveries. The account used was for a company called ICU Security. They have an account which was opened with a five thousand dollar pre-payment, and have been drawing against that for all deliveries. Fleet Deliveries doesn't seem to have any real contact information. No one at Fleet Deliveries seems to remember who opened the account, since it happened several months ago."

'ICU Security, another pun. They think this is funny,' Gibbs thought angrily. Gibbs took a good look at Ziva. Her hair was falling out of the rubber band that was supposed to be holding it back and out of her face, and she seemed to pulse with pent up hostility. She needed something more proactive to focus on, and Gibbs had an idea. "Ziva, go down to the armory, and requisition everything we may need for a raid on where ever they're holding Tony. Figure we'll have at least ten people, all of our team, Balboa's team, and a few Bureau people, too. Since we don't know what the circumstances will be, make sure we're completely covered."

"I will make sure we are prepared," she assured Gibbs, relieved to have a task with which she was familiar and knew she could accomplish.

Gibbs used the lull in activity to call Ducky. Although he didn't want to worry the elderly M.E. by sharing the full extent of the danger Tony was facing, he knew he couldn't keep him completely in the dark, as Ducky would not appreciate being sheltered. Ducky was understandably concerned when he learned that Tony had been taken, and promptly volunteered to come in, which was what Gibbs had expected, which is why he didn't want Ducky to know about the injuries Tony had sustained. Not even a direct order to remain at home would have kept Ducky away if he knew. "Tomorrow morning will be plenty soon enough for that," he told his friend. "Be here at by seven, and bring Kreiger with you, Duck. I'm going to need to call Balboa's team back, to help with the operation once we know where they're keeping Tony, so she'll be safer here. Try and get some sleep. It's going to be a long night here, so it's important that you be well rested and thinking clearly. I'll call you if we're ready to go before morning, but I highly doubt it. Just finding out who they are may take hours, and then we need to track them down."

"You need to get some rest, yourself, Jethro," Ducky said. "I know you're worried about Tony, but you need to remember that he's been in this situation before, and always comes out of it relatively unscathed. There's no reason to suspect this will be any different."

Gibbs swallowed his gut response, as he flashed back to the DVD. Tony wasn't going to be 'unscathed' this time. Finally, he managed to say, "I'll try Ducky. See you in the morning," then he rung off. Turning to Fornell, he said, "Coffee," as he headed for the break room.

Gibbs and Fornell spent the next hour nursing a cup of coffee, and discussing what they knew about the kidnappers and their operation, which was frustratingly little. Neither one could figure out why they had thought they could force Gibbs to back down, or more importantly, how they knew he was investigating. Finally, at 11:30, Gibbs said, "Tobias, you're exhausted. Why don't you let me take you home for a few hours. Get some sleep and be back here first thing in the morning. There's no point in staying here, wearing yourself out, when we can't do anything yet."

"I could say the same thing to you, Jethro," Fornell answered. "Everyone's going to need you at the top of your game when we get ready to go in. Neither one of us is twenty five anymore," he pointed out to his friend.

"Not for a long time," Gibbs acknowledged wryly. Fornell was right, and he knew it. He couldn't afford to make a mistake tomorrow, not when it could cost Tony his life. Much as he didn't want to admit it, he would be better off with a little sleep. "I'll make a deal with you. Let's go down and see how McGee and Abby are coming along, and then, if we aren't needed, we'll both go and try to get a couple of hours of sleep."

"That'll work," Fornell agreed, his bones cracking audibly as he slowly stood up, as if to prove his point. They stopped long enough to pick up two Caf-Pows to take to Abby and McGee, then headed down to the lab.

"Gibbs, I knew you'd be here any minute!" Abby exclaimed when the two agents entered, springing up from where she sat, next to McGee, in front of two laptops.

"Why'd you think that, Abs?" Gibbs asked.

"Cause McGee is brilliant, and he just figured out that they already have their next kidnapping victim, and we know who it is!" she said triumphantly, hands on her hips, waiting for Gibbs to respond.

As always, Gibbs didn't let her down. "Good job Abs," he told her, as she beamed at him, and then planted a kiss on McGee's cheek. When she didn't say anything else, he asked, "So are you planning on sharing, Abs?"

"Joseph Galvin, Boss," McGee said quickly, and punched some keys on his computer as he referenced the screen. "Age 42, divorced, no children, Vice President of Corporate Relations for a smaller company called Pursell and White, which just went public and stands to make billions over the next couple of years. Actually a really good investment – I've been looking at them myself for the last few weeks, thinking…"

"McGee!" Gibbs said, snapping the younger agent off of his tangent. They were all getting tired and having trouble staying focused, but he couldn't afford to let them get off track, not when Tony was missing, not until he had Tony back. "Why'd the Bureau have a file on him?" he wanted to know.

"They were actually investigating his assistant, a guy called William DeVoy. DeVoy had applied with the Bureau to be an agent; he's a computer specialist with degrees from Cal Tech and NYU, and works as Galvin's chief technical advisor, since the company manufactures parts for some of the biggest computer companies in the world. They just created a file on Galvin because DeVoy spends so much time with him," McGee informed Gibbs.

"Good job, McGee," Gibbs said. "So, have you compared the people who accessed Galvin's files to the names you pulled from Nussbaum's and Carter's?"

"Just started that program running," McGee answered, "should have an answer in just a couple of minutes. It really helps to have another variable for the computer. I'm hoping it will help refine the list." As he was talking the computer pinged, and started playing, "We Are The Champions." McGee hurriedly hit the mute button on his keyboard, and said rather sheepishly, "Um, got the list now, only six names in common. I'm printing it out right now," he added, as he moved his mouse.

Abby pulled the paper from the printer, and handed it to Gibbs, who exchanged the Caf-Pows for it, as he prepared to look it over. The names didn't mean anything to him. He handed it over to Fornell, glad that the FBI agent was there, since he'd have a much better chance of identifying the people on the list. Fornell looked at the names, and frowned. 'Sarah Williams, Joshua Peters, Maria Gomez, Peter Phelps, Sidney Salerno, Michael Langston,' the list read.

"Mean anything to you?" Gibbs asked Tobias.

"I don't know all these people, the Bureau's pretty big, after all, but a couple of them make sense to me. Gomez and Langston both run clearances for a lot of departments; it's what they do all day. Not sure who the others are, but they could easily do clerical work for that office. One name doesn't make sense, though. Phelps – Peter Phelps, he was an agent for years, got hurt, worked in clearance for awhile, then took a job working private security. How far back did you search? Guess it could be back from when he was still working for the Bureau," Fornell said.

McGee was once again checking his computer, the forgotten Caf-Pow sitting next to him. "Phelps has looked at these files a bunch of times. Looks like he last accessed Galvin's file three days ago!" he said excitedly.

"Then something's wrong," Fornell said. "He doesn't have any business doing that, and shouldn't even have access."

"McGee, I want to know everything there is to know about Peter Phelps, and I want to know where he is right now," Gibbs barked.

"On it Boss," McGee said distractedly, as he was already focused back on his computer, fingers flying across the keyboard.

"What can you tell me about Phelps, Tobias?" Gibbs asked.

"I worked with him a few times. We were actually at the same level when he got injured in an operation that went bad. He had his own team, and they had a good solve rate. Phelps was considered dedicated and smart. I know he was a by the book kind of guy. He and I even clashed over that once, since he thought something I was doing wasn't SOP. Never did anything to make waves, think he wanted to climb up the administrative ladder. That changed after he was hurt. He wasn't ever going to be able to work in the field again, and got assigned to running sensitive background checks, since his clearance level was so high. I heard he took it badly, and got bitter and hard to deal with, but I never saw it first hand, didn't have any reason to. I remember someone telling me he'd taken a job with a large corporate security firm, but that's the last I knew," Fornell said.

"Boss, Phelps only worked for the security company for eight months. He's been unemployed for the last seven. As far as I can tell, his only income has been disability checks from the Bureau," McGee reported from where he sat in front of his laptop, not even bothering to look up as he reported.

"Track him down, McGee. I want to know everyone he's been in contact with over those last seven months, and an accounting of every penny he's spent," Gibbs ordered.

"Working on that now. It'll take time, but between the two of us, we're going to know everything there is to know about him," McGee promised.

"And all his associates, too," Gibbs added.

"On it," McGee said.

"I'm taking Fornell home, and will be gone myself for a few hours. Call me if you get anything we can work with," Gibbs ordered, as he headed for the elevator.

When they were in the car, and headed for Fornell's home, Tobias turned to study Gibbs. He was tired, there was no doubt about that, but the most compelling thing about Gibbs' appearance was the determination written all over his face, as he steered the speeding car, hands clenched tightly on the wheel. They'd been friends long enough that they didn't feel the need to fill every quiet moment with pointless chatter, and Gibbs was clearly lost in his own thoughts, as Fornell could see his jaw tightening over whatever he'd been thinking about. "Are you going to kill those people?" he asked Gibbs.

"I'm not doing anything to them until we have DiNozzo back," Gibbs muttered.

"But once he's safe, you're going to kill them for hurting him, aren't you?" Fornell pressed.

Gibbs looked over at him, his eyes absolutely unreadable, and said, "I honestly don't know, Tobias. Would it bother you if I did?"

Fornell looked at him, and answered equally as honestly, "I don't think so."


	19. Chapter 19

"**A Friend in Need" – Chapter Nineteen**

Gibbs realized he hadn't checked in with Jenny before he left the Yard, and chided himself for letting that slip. He had to settle for calling her on his way home. He had just dropped Fornell off at his house, with the promise to call if anything broke in the case before the morning, when he thought of her. Jenny answered on the second ring, and Gibbs said, "Jen, its Jethro. Forgot to stop by earlier. I've gone home for a few hours."

"I'm aware of that, Jethro," Jenny said. "I got a call about twenty minutes ago from a very worried clerk down in the armory. Apparently Ziva had put in a rather large requisition, and he was okay with it until he got to the request for four shoulder mounted missile launchers. He thought she must be joking, and teasingly asked her if she was going to war, to which she answered, 'Yes, we are.' The man was understandably concerned and tried calling you at your desk r_epeatedly_, and finally, when he couldn't get you, called up to my office. I had to assure him that we weren't really going to war." She paused there for a moment, to see what Gibbs would say.

"So, did you sign off on all four of the missile launchers?" Gibbs asked, and smiled when Jenny snorted through the phone at him.

"Very funny Jethro. What I did was approve all her other requests, even though you're now equipped to arm a small infantry division, and sent her home for a few hours of sleep. She didn't want to go, and I had to pull rank, but she finally agreed, although I'm sure she'll be back by six in the morning. I'm glad you've decided to be sensible, and try to get some sleep. I'm about to leave here and do the same thing myself."

"Thanks, Jen, for dealing with the Ziva situation, and everything else," Gibbs said. "Go home and get some rest. I'll see you in the morning." When he'd hung up, he thought about Jenny as he drove home. She'd been a good partner, sharp, brave and dedicated. But she was proving to be an even better director. Her experience as an agent gave her a better understanding for what her teams went through than most paper pushers. She was usually willing to let her team leaders really do their jobs, without too much micromanagement. He certainly couldn't complain about the way she had her people's backs. As for the other stuff with Jenny, that should never have happened - not because they were partners, but because he knew neither of them were ready for something permanent, and that when it didn't work out, one or both of them would end up getting hurt. Jenny had bigger plans, and he hadn't been looking for another wife, but he'd given in to lust and convenience, lost track of the bigger picture, and almost ruined a friendship in the process. When Jenny had first started as Director, he'd worried they wouldn't be able to work together, but over time, they seemed to have come to an understanding, however tenuous, although he sometimes wondered if it would survive her finding out about he and Tony. Putting that unpleasant thought aside, he concentrated on getting himself home in one piece.

When Gibbs disconnected, Jenny held the receiver to the phone against her forehead for a few moments, just thinking. It had been a hell of a day, and she was glad it was almost over. After viewing the DVD of Tony's torture, Jenny had returned to her office and poured herself a drink. Many times being the Director was harder than being an agent, and this was one of those times. Over the course of the day Jenny had fielded a call from the Director of the FBI, then she had to call SECNAV to inform him of recent events, then she had called the director of Homeland Security, since they had heard about it from the FBI, and she spent the rest of the evening and into the night fending off offers of assistance from people who meant well, but would just be in the way when Gibbs and Ziva would need room to operate, unhindered and unobserved. She had ached to suit up and go with Gibbs and company to get Tony back, but she knew that wasn't realistic – someone had to run interference with which ever local LEOs had jurisdiction - someone had to hold off the FBI - someone had to .... The list went on and on, and Jenny would willingly do whatever she had to do to protect Gibbs and his team, because bottom line was, Tony DiNozzo was one of _theirs_, and he'd been tortured because of that fact. Whoever did that was going to pay, just as if they were a terrorist, because they were, and Jenny would run the clean up operation. No more harm would befall her people, what ever the fallout. Putting the receiver back in its cradle, Jenny pushed back her desk chair and stood to leave. Tomorrow morning would be here all too soon.

Gibbs pulled into his driveway, and stared at the darkened windows of his house, which looked cold and uninviting. Somehow he knew that no matter how many lights he turned on, the house wouldn't warm up tonight. Not when he was in it alone, while Tony was who knows where, suffering who knows what. He went straight to the basement when he got in, and automatically pulled the bourbon bottle off its shelf, but stopped himself before he'd poured a drink. He didn't dare let himself take a drink, no matter how badly he needed it. He couldn't afford to fall too deeply asleep, not when there was the off chance Abby and McGee would call, having found something that broke the case wide open for them. Reaching back up, he replaced the bottle, and then looked around. Usually working on the boat helped him wind down, but that had no appeal tonight. Turning off the light, he went back to the main floor, stopping in the kitchen to grab a glass of water, then headed up the stairs to the bedroom.

After taking off his holster and emptying his pockets, he stripped down to his boxers, tossing his clothes on a chair beside the dresser, not bothering to take them to the dirty clothes hamper, and climbed into the bed. He reached over and set the alarm for five, then switched off the bedside lamp and lay down. Despite being bone tired, he tossed and turned, rearranging his pillows several times, in an effort to find a comfortable position, to little avail. The bed smelled of Tony, and Gibbs drew both pleasure and pain from that fact. Finally, after grabbing one of Tony's pillows, and hugging it close to his chest, his nose buried deep within it, he drifted off into a fitful sleep, although his dreams were filled with nightmare images of Tony bruised, bleeding and struggling for air. Finally, when he sat bolt upright at 4:00, after having awakened from yet another horrendous dream, he gave up on trying to sleep, and took himself off to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

After he was clean and dressed, Gibbs gave McGee a call, knowing that he and Abby would have worked through the night, trying to find the key to unraveling the kidnappers' identities. "How's it coming?" Gibbs asked, after McGee had answered.

"We're starting to get there," McGee said, in a voice laced with fatigue. "We managed to get the call logs on both Phelps' land line and his cell phone, which took us some time to locate, and have a list of everyone he's called in the last eight months. They're pretty long lists, although there's been no activity on his home phone for the last five weeks, so I'm betting he's living somewhere else right now. We also have his Yahoo email account, but haven't had time to start going through his messages yet, since it took forever to get the phone information. Abby's tracking down his financials right now, but again, its slow going."

"Did you take time to eat?" Gibbs asked, knowing food, caffeine, and the overwhelming need to find Tony were the only things that were keeping the two of them going.

"Yeah, I think we ate something a while ago," McGee answered vaguely, although that response did little to reassure Gibbs.

"I'm on my way back in," Gibbs told McGee, as he resolved to stop and load up on food and coffee before he headed over there. "Should be there within the hour."

"'Kay," McGee answered distractedly, and Gibbs could hear him tapping away at his keyboard, as the phone disconnected.

Gibbs stopped at the all night diner down the block from headquarters and ordered a variety of pastries, breakfast burritos, sandwiches, and vast quantities of coffee to take in with him. Between his people, Balboa's team, the FBI personnel, and various and sundry other miscellaneous people, Gibbs expected there to be quite a crowd in Abby's lab by seven o'clock, many of whom would not have taken the time to grab food on their way in, opting instead for a few more minutes of sleep. While he waited for the food to cook, he scrolled through his contact list on his phone until he came to Barry Dobbs' name. Dobbs' headed one of the NCIS teams stationed over at the Pentagon, and had once worked under Gibbs. Gibbs liked and trusted Dobbs, and knew he would be willing to come over to the Yard to lend a hand with this operation, especially since Dobbs and Tony were friendly. Gibbs knew that McGee was going to be wiped out, and felt he needed at least one more person who was well rested, when it came time to go in and get Tony, and was confident Jenny wouldn't mind him calling in more backup. Looking at his watch, he saw it was only 4:45, but his need outweighed manners, and he decided to call anyway. He hoped to have everyone there by 7:00, so they could do just one briefing, and then assign people to a task.

"Dobbs," Barry said sleepily into the phone, when he answered Gibbs' call.

Gibbs identified himself, and immediately launched into why he was calling.

"Count me in," Dobbs told him, when he heard the basics of what had happened and what Gibbs intended to do. "I'll bring one of my team members as well. What would help you more, a soldier or a tech expert?" he asked.

"Bring the tech person," Gibbs said, thinking about how tired Abby and McGee were. Maybe another set of eyes and hands would speed up the search for Tony. Plus, if this person was an NCIS agent, even if they were a techie, they'd still be trained in weapons and assault, so this way Gibbs was getting a kind of two for one. "Can you be there by 7:00?"

"Not a problem," Dobbs assured him. "Just make sure you have coffee," he said, as he hung up.

Finally the food was ready, and after deflecting a joke about his being ready to feed an army from the man behind the counter with the answer, "You have _no_ idea," he picked up the large box it had all been stowed in, and headed for the Naval Yard. When he got to Abby's lab he set the box on one of the work tables as he greeted the two exhausted tech experts. McGee was still sitting right where he'd been when Gibbs had left for the night, and Abby was over studying a print out by the mass spectrometer.

"Gibbs!" Abby said excitedly, "I think I just got something that might be useful to us later. Major Mass Spec has finished the analysis of the hair sample you collected from Melissa Carter, and I know a little more about where she was held. According to the findings, Carter had unusually high levels of iron and other minerals in her system, which would indicate she spent some time drinking water that was supplied by a private well, rather than a city water system. Major Mass Spec compared the findings to analyses of the water supply throughout Virginia and Maryland, and determined the water she'd been drinking more than likely came from somewhere in Fauquier County, in Northern Virginia." She'd crossed over to Gibbs while she spoke, and as she got closer he could see the dark circles under her red rimmed eyes, and the fine lines of both fatigue and worry.

"You did good, Abs. That should help us once we know a little more about Phelps, allow us to eliminate some information, and focus more on other facts," he told her, as he gave her a small kiss on the cheek. Abby was going to need a lot of positive reinforcement today to keep her going, especially if something didn't give soon, as the worry for Tony would intensify as the day progressed. They'd all heard what Palmer had said the night before, and knew Tony's life depended on their ability to find him quickly. "What do you have, McGee?" he asked, turning towards his youngest agent.

"I've gone back through the call logs, since they're our best source of information at the moment, and separated the numbers by frequency in which he called them, and am tracking down information on the ten most called numbers right now. I should have names in just a few minutes, then I'll start trying to get information on the people, while Abby keeps digging on his financials," McGee answered.

"Both of you stop for a second, and get something to eat," Gibbs ordered. "You'll work better with some food in your bellies."

They were all still eating, when Ziva walked into the lab at 6:00. "Good morning," she said, as she walked over to the table and helped herself to a coffee. As she sorted through the food offerings, to see what was available, she asked, "Have you made any progress?"

Abby and McGee brought her up to date, while she chewed on an egg and bagel sandwich, then they both scurried off to get back to their respective searches. Ziva and Gibbs talked quietly while they worked; Ziva updating Gibbs on the weaponry she'd procured the night before, and Gibbs detailing his plans for the day. They were still talking when Palmer arrived fifteen minutes later, eager to brief Gibbs on his discussion with Dr. Pitt, and the status of the medical truck's readiness. Fornell was the next person in, and after looking him over, Gibbs thought Fornell looked as tired as he felt. He listened to the FBI agent explain that he'd had to call Liz Templeton in as his backup today, because Morgan had been called out to deal with a problem in an old case that had come up unexpectedly overnight. Gibbs wasn't happy about that, but they were going to need bodies, so he couldn't afford to reject one, just because he couldn't stand the woman. "Just make _sure_ she follows orders," Gibbs warned Tobias, then moved on to another topic of discussion.

Over the next twenty minutes, people kept arriving. By seven o'clock the lab was full to overflowing, and the noise level had become so great that Abby and McGee had been forced to stop work, as they could no longer concentrate. Jenny appeared, bearing more food and drink, although her offerings were a bit more nutritious, as they included cups of fruit, yogurt, and orange juice. Ducky and Courtney were next, followed quickly by Balboa and his three team members, then Liz Templeton, and the last to arrive were Barry Dobbs and his tech expert, Jay Primrose, who came bringing with them yet more food and coffee.

When Abby saw Dobbs she screamed, "Barry!" then rushed over to him, and threw her arms around him, entrapping him in a bear hug. "I'm so glad to see you. You're going to help, right? We have to get him back!"

"Easy, Abby girl. It'll be okay. We're _going _to get him back, you can count on that. Gibbs _always_ gets him back," Dobbs assured her, as he gently tried to extract himself from her grip.

Ducky, who'd been standing with Abby, Courtney and Ziva right before Abby accosted the newest arrival, went over to greet Dobbs. He hadn't seen the man for quite some time, and was pleasantly surprised to find him there that day.

Ziva and Courtney had been standing beside them, watching, and when Dobbs assured Abby they'd get him back, Courtney looked at Ziva in confusion. "Get who back?" she asked.

Ziva looked at Courtney in surprise, and then sighed softly, in resignation. Apparently Ducky hadn't told Courtney why everyone was gathering, and now the task had fallen to her. Deciding that the details could wait, Ziva quietly told the younger woman that Tony had been grabbed by the kidnappers. Courtney didn't take the information well, and her eyes immediately started to fill with tears.

"This is _my_ fault," she said. "NCIS got involved because _I_ came to _you_," she said softly. Ziva was about to set Courtney straight, when she saw Liz Templeton headed their way. She hadn't had much to do with the agent yet, although she'd heard a lot about her from Abby and McGee, none of it flattering. She wasn't about to have a discussion with Courtney about her complicity in Tony's situation in front of the woman.

As she approached, Liz took in the bandages creeping out of the neck of Courtney's blouse, and the way she was cradling her arm. Clearly the younger woman wasn't fully healed yet, and Liz questioned the wisdom in her being there. She was still irritated over the fact that Courtney had run to NCIS for protection, rather than her own agency. It didn't matter that there was supposedly a leak at the Bureau, you just didn't _do_ things like that, you _always_ trusted your own agency. There she was, palling around with Gibbs' domesticated attack dog. She needed to get Courtney away from these people, before she forgot everything she'd learned since she had been on Morgan's team. "Courtney," Liz said, "I see you're up and moving again."

Ziva looked at the woman, stunned. No, 'How are you feeling?' or 'I'm glad you're feeling better,' 'What is Templeton's problem?' Ziva fumed silently.

"Hello Liz," Courtney said in a subdued voice. She wasn't sure she could cope with Templeton just then. She was still trying to process what she'd just learned about Tony. Having to deal with Liz required you to be on your toes at the best of times, and Courtney most definitely wasn't in top shape. "Have you met Ziva David?" she asked, hoping she could deflect Liz from whatever she'd intended to say.

"Yes, we've met," Liz said. "I was there last night when everyone saw the DVD. I don't know how in the hell DiNozzo keeps getting himself into situations like this. In _all_ my twelve years, I've never even come _close_ to something like this."

Before Courtney could ask what DVD Liz was referring to, Ziva stepped directly into Liz's personal space, and with her face just inches away from the other woman's she hissed, "Perhaps that is because _you_ have never been undercover? I would not think _anyone_ would be so foolish as to send _you_ on such a mission, as you do not seem to know when to _shut up_. Tony, on the other hand, is one of the _best_ undercover agents I have ever met, and many agencies, including the FBI, have asked to borrow his services over the years. You would do well not to speak of things you do not understand, Agent Templeton!"

Liz took a step back. She was both outraged and afraid. 'How _dare _she speak to me like that!?' she thought. 'Just who in the _hell_ does she think she is, anyway? She's nothing more than a legally sanctioned _killer_. One that Gibbs probably only keeps around because she'll do whatever he tells her to, no matter, whether it was legal or not!' Liz looked away from the challenge in Ziva's eyes, knowing the NCIS woman wouldn't hesitate to hit her if she pushed matters. Instead, she fixed her gaze on Courtney, and was amazed to find the rookie also looking at her with distaste. "You need to be careful of who you choose to associate with, Agent Kreiger. Not every agency smiles on violence as a solution to every problem. I will talk to you later, when you're better rested and looking at things more rationally." Liz turned and walked stiffly away from them.

Gibbs had been standing to the side, watching the crowd amass. There was a general buzz of anticipation and tension in the air, but Gibbs had held off giving the new arrivals much information. He wanted to have to go through everything only once, plus he anticipated some fallout when the full story had been told. Without a doubt Ducky would be angry with him for not telling him everything he knew about Tony last night, and looking over at Ziva, he also suspected they'd need to do some damage control on Kreiger. She was too young and green not to think this was somehow her fault, and would need reassuring, before she would be of any use. Finally, when everyone had arrived and had eaten something, Gibbs called for their attention.

"Listen up people," he said loud enough to cut through the cacophony of voices in the room. "As most of you know, the FBI and NCIS have been working together for the last few days on a case involving a syndicate that's been perpetrating corporate kidnappings for the last several weeks. On Friday things escalated, and five FBI personnel were murdered, and two more seriously wounded. Yesterday, Tony DiNozzo was taken by the gang, in an attempt to force us to back off. Our goal is to find these people and get our agent back, today. Two of my people, Abby Scuito and Tim McGee, have been working all night to try and figure out who these people are, and we've now identified two of them. Abby and Tim are working on tracking down where they might be, and the minute we know that, we're going in. You all need to see the DVD the kidnappers sent to us last night, so you'll understand why we don't have the luxury of time. Once you've seen it, we'll give out assignments." He nodded at McGee, who was standing by his computer. Tim hit a key and the plasma screen sprang to life.

All eyes were riveted to the screen, as everyone in the room watched the sickening display. Even though they'd already seen it, Gibbs' team and Jenny still found it as deeply disturbing as the newcomers. Ducky moved closer as he watched the recording, trying to catalogue all of Tony's injuries, alarmed by the extent of the damage and the labored quality of Tony's breathing. When the DVD was finished there was a stunned silence in the room. Each person was trying to come to terms with what they'd just witnessed in their own way, and Gibbs gave them a moment before he spoke again. "Dr. Mallard's assistant, Jimmy Palmer, and Tony's doctor who's a pulmonary expert, have both informed me we have very little time to find him, and they spent last evening gathering all of the medical supplies we'll need when we first get there, so our job is to find these people, and bring DiNozzo home. Are there any questions at this point?"

Liz Templeton raised her hand immediately. Gibbs looked around, hoping someone else would have a question, but when no other hand was raised, he was forced to call on Liz. "Yes Liz, go ahead," he said, not even bothering to hide the reluctance in his voice.

"You say you're going to assign us to a task, but what do you expect us to do if you don't have a clue as to where these people are?" she asked, in a voice that was just one step shy of being belligerent.

Gibbs ignored the antagonism in her voice, he didn't have time to get into a pissing match with her, nor did he think she was even worth the effort it would require. Liz had overstepped her place once again, since Gibbs had already said he was going to assign each person to a job, and she'd just suggested that the tasks assigned to the various people assembled would be little more than busy work. Instead, he chose to ignore that implication, and use the question as a segue into divvying up the work load.

"This is how we we're going to break out into groups for now," he said. "Primrose and Kreiger are going to stay here in the lab and work with McGee and Abby on various computer searches they have going, since they're both technology experts. Balboa and his team, along with Dobbs, are going to go with Ziva David, from my team, to finish weapons and defense preparations. Templeton, Fornell, Director Shepard, and myself are going to make ourselves available to procure any and all warrants as the need arises, and Dr. Mallard and his assistant will continue their work down in the morgue until we're ready to go in. Some of you may be moved around to other assignments as things develop, but for now, this will get us going. Okay people, let's take ten more minutes to finish eating and then get to it."

Ducky cornered Gibbs the minute he was done speaking. "I am hurt that you did not share this with me last night, Jethro," he said stiffly.

"There wasn't any point, Duck," Gibbs said. "You couldn't have done anything for Tony, and Palmer did a good job getting started on coordinating your end of things. It made more sense to let you sleep, since the rest of us weren't going to be very rested this morning, and would benefit from you being fresh and clear headed. I knew there'd be plenty of time for you to review what Palmer had pulled together, and add anything you felt was necessary."

Palmer had quietly moved over by them while they were speaking, and he stood with his head slightly bowed, feeling guilty for not calling Ducky and confiding in him. Ducky glanced over at him when Gibbs mentioned the work he had done the previous night, and gave him a proud smile, to let Jimmy know he wasn't angry with him. "Very well, your point is taken, if not appreciated, Jethro. I assume Jimmy discussed the danger of infection and pneumonia with you?" he asked.

"Yeah," Gibbs said. "He was very clear about it. Talk with him Duck. I think he and Brad managed to get you everything you're going to need, but let me know if there's something else you want that you can't get for yourself."

Ducky had been watching Gibbs closely as they'd talked. "Did you get any sleep last night, Jethro?"

"I went home for a few hours, yeah," Gibbs answered, not mentioning how restless his sleep had been, although with Ducky he doubted it was a secret.

"You will get him back, Jethro. You must have as much faith in yourself as the rest of have in you," Ducky said, then patted him on the back as he moved over to Jimmy. "Come along then, Mr. Palmer. Show me what your have been up to, while Gibbs and his crew work to locate for us our next guests in the morgue." With one last pat on Gibbs' back, he left.

One disaster averted, Gibbs looked around and located Ziva and Courtney, who seemed to be having a disagreement, as they spoke quietly, yet intensely, together. As he moved closer, he heard Ziva say, "None of this is your fault, do not assume responsibility that is not yours to bear. Tony is my partner, and I am confident speaking for him. He would tell you that he was _doing his job_, and danger is a _part_ of that job. Every one of us faces it every day, and he willingly assumes that risk every time he puts on his badge and straps on his gun. Do not presume to disrespect his sacrifice due to the misplaced guilt you are feeling. That is _childish_ and _selfish_. You are a federal agent, and you must pull yourself together if we are to find him and bring him home. Can you do that, Courtney? Can you set aside the guilt and lend your assistance in finding him? Abby and McGee have been working all night, they are tired, they could use your assistance. So I ask you again, _can _you help them, and us, find Tony?"

Gibbs waited for Kreiger's response from where he had stopped. There was nothing to be gained by interfering. He was impressed by Ziva's ability to read the younger woman, and she had said just the right thing to force her to snap out of it, and lend her skills to the search.

"I'm sorry Ziva, you're right, of course. I'll go help right now," Courtney said to Ziva, and then, impulsively, reached out and gave Ziva a hug. "This is where we hug," she said to Ziva, as she headed off in the direction of Abby and McGee, who were back at their computers, showing Primrose what they had been doing.

"Good job Ziva," Gibbs said, when Courtney was out of earshot.

"She will be a good agent," Ziva said, "in time. We all must learn."

"She has a good teacher," Gibbs said, then he looked around the room for Jenny and Fornell.

Jenny had been standing not too far away, and when Gibbs saw her, she smiled and nodded in approval. Clearly she, too, had heard what had been said between Courtney and Ziva, and also what Gibbs had said to Ziva. Gibbs nodded back, then crossed to her. "Where's Tobias?" he asked.

"He pulled Templeton aside a while ago. I don't think he was very happy with her. I thought it best to let him deal with her on his own. Are you _sure_ you want her with us, Jethro?" she asked.

"I need the people, Jen, and she can shoot. But I want her where I can see her, at all times," he said. "I don't trust her to completely follow orders, and don't want to jeopardize anyone else. I know how to neutralize her," he explained to Jenny.

"I hope so," Jenny said. "She's bad news. I don't know how she lasted a month with you."

Changing the subject she said, "I talked to SecNav last night and outlined the plan for today. He conferred with the Director of the FBI and they both wanted me to let you know that they'd grant you any assistance you needed, including the use of the Bureau's Hostage Rescue Unit and two Marine units. They are on standby all day, just waiting for the signal. When Fornell gets done with Templeton, we need to discuss how we intend to handle warrants. I know you'd probably prefer to let our legal department take the lead on this, but the Director of the FBI was going to have his Legal on stand-by, along with a federal judge, who both he, as well as SECNAV, have a good working relationship with. He was going to request that the judge keep the warrants issued out of the system until after the take-down. He explained to her that there was most likely a mole, and that an agent's life depended on making sure that person would not have access to that information, and would not be able to alert the perps to our plans."

Gibbs surprised her by not arguing. Instead he said thoughtfully, "We could use Templeton as a runner for that. It would keep her out of everyone's hair, ours included."

"That would work," Jenny agreed. They moved on to discussing the logistics of coordinating with the local LEO's, once they knew where the kidnapper's were holding Tony and Galvin, and were still discussing that when Fornell returned, with a much more subdued Templeton in tow. By the time Gibbs and Jenny had finished bring Tobias up to speed on the plans, the room had cleared out. All that remained, aside from themselves, were Abby, McGee, Primrose and Kreiger.

Courtney was sitting at Abby's desk, working on the table top computer there, and Primrose had already set up his own laptop, which he'd brought with him. Abby and McGee were once again at their stations, and all were engrossed in their work.

As Gibbs watched, McGee stood up and hurried to the printer, which was whirling out a copy of something. "Boss," he called out, excitedly. "The computer's finished identifying who the ten most frequently called parties were from Phelps' phones, and I've got the print out right here. They're listed in ascending order of frequency. David Barker is number six," he said, as he rushed over to where Gibbs stood. When he got there, he handed the paper to Gibbs and waited to see if the information would lead to any new instructions.

Gibbs took the list, and looked it over. 'Alicia Phelps, Taste of India, Marcus Phelps, Domino's Pizza, Sanford, Miller and Jones – Attorneys At Law, Jillian Marshall, Cooper Consulting, David Barker, Richard DeAngelo, Sylvia Cooper.' Gibbs couldn't believe what he was looking at. "Damn it!" he said, as he handed the paper over to Jenny. Fornell moved closer so he could see the list.

"Oh my god," Fornell breathed, and Jenny just looked over at Gibbs.

They had all expected to find Barker's name; that was no surprise. It was _Richard DeAngelo's name_ that stunned them! The man had sat there, _day after day_, offering support and sympathy, while all the while he'd been _betraying_ them to Phelps!!!

"McGee, you take Sylvia Cooper. I want to know _everything _there is to know about her in one hour, and assign Primrose to Richard DeAngelo. Have him start by finding out where that bastard is right now!" Gibbs hissed, the fury on his face even frightening McGee, who was used to Gibbs when he was in a bad mood.

Liz Templeton, who was standing behind Fornell, felt the blood drain out of her face when Gibbs said 'Richard DeAngelo.'


	20. Chapter 20

"**A Friend in Need" - Chapter Twenty**

Gibbs turned to Fornell, "We need warrants for DeAngelo's home, his financials, and his phone lines, ASAP. Get your legal department on it now. Templeton," he snapped, turning towards the woman. "Get your ass over to the Hoover building and wait till they have them, then get them back here ASAP. And Templeton, not a WORD about this to anyone, understood?"

Liz automatically responded, "Yes Sir," her body beginning to thaw, as it had frozen up completely when she heard DeAngelo first mentioned, and she remembered the night before with dismay. She'd immediately started playing back the conversation she'd had with him. 'Did I say anything he could use? Will Gibbs find out?' She cringed at the thought, as she certainly had no intention of telling him about it. Liz didn't wait to be told twice, she turned on her heels and high tailed it out of the lab, glad to be out of Gibbs' reach.

"Jethro," Jenny said, "You need to slow down. I understand your desire to find Tony, but we don't have probable causes for those warrants. Right now, all we have is his name on a suspect's call log. We can't even prove he really talked to Phelps."

"I'll get us more," Gibbs promised in a flat voice, his eyes deadly cold, "just as soon as I have that SOB in my interrogation room." Turning to where Primrose sat watching, he barked, "Primrose, what do you have for me on DeAngelo's location?"

"Looks like he's at Bethesda, Gibbs," Primrose answered, as he turned to study his computer screen.

"Of course he is," Gibbs muttered to himself, under his breath, "probably trying to get more information." Speaking louder, he said, "I'll send Balboa and one of his people over to grab him."

"I can get him to come over here without setting off any warning bells, Jethro. That way we don't need to worry that we'll somehow inadvertently alert the others in his group," Fornell told Gibbs and Jenny. "All I'll need to do is ask him to come to NCIS for a briefing on information that will help with the BOLO, and if we're right about him, he'll be right over. There is no way he'll be able to resist the opportunity to get first hand information about how the investigation is going."

Gibbs nodded his head. "Do it," he told Fornell, and when Fornell moved away to call, Gibbs turned back to where the agents were working on their computers and asked, "Anything on Sylvia Cooper yet, McGee?"

"Working on it," McGee said. "Looks like she's the owner of Cooper Consulting, so probably all of those other calls were to her, too. Means Phelps spent a hell of a lot of time on the phone with this woman."

"Then she's probably our best lead. What about her phone records?" Gibbs asked.

"Working on getting those now," McGee answered, "and Abby's switching over to her financials. We'll see where that leads us."

"What about DeAngelo's financials? I need that first," Gibbs demanded.

"Jethro, we need to let them work, which they can't do if they have to stop and report to you every third second," Jenny said to Gibbs, at the same time McGee said, "Will get Primrose going on that next, and Courtney's running a trace on Cooper's phone right now."

Gibbs took a deep breath. He knew Jenny was right, but he couldn't seem to make himself stop pushing. Every time he thought of that fucking DVD his heart started to pound again. Tony didn't have a lot of time left, they had to find him quickly. "Going down to talk to Ducky," he said abruptly, and headed for the exit, leaving Jenny and Fornell standing in the lab, watching him in surprise as he got on the elevator.

"Guess I should take the opportunity to check in with some of my people," Fornell said when the doors had closed, not exactly sure what to say about Gibbs' hasty exit.

"Why don't you use Tony's desk," Jenny suggested. "I'm going up to MTAC for an 8 o'clock briefing, but let me know when DeAngelo gets here, or if anything else breaks before I'm done. I want to be there when Jethro questions him," she told Tobias, and he nodded. The look they exchanged as they walked towards the elevator was serious and concerned, indicating without words the wisdom of her request.

Ducky and Palmer were over by Ducky's desk, looking over a printout when Gibbs walked into the morgue. "Jethro," Ducky said, "I'm surprised to see you down here. What can I do for you?"

"Just checking to make sure everything was good to go from your end," Gibbs answered.

Ducky looked his friend over more carefully, immediately suspicious of the reason he'd just been given. Gibbs didn't have any reason to be checking on his preparations, he knew Ducky was more than capable of organizing the medical end of the rescue mission without his help. Not liking what he saw, Ducky said, "I could do with a cup of tea, and a sit down. Mr. Palmer, why don't you take our check sheet, and make sure all of the items we've listed are indeed on the truck. Once you've done that, since you will already be there, you might as well start that inventory we were discussing last week. I will call you if I need you before you are finished."

"Sure Dr. Mallard," Jimmy said, knowing that was just an excuse to get him to leave, so that the two older men could talk in private. Jimmy didn't take offense as he might once have, in fact, he was impressed by how smoothly Dr. Mallard had found a way to allow Gibbs some privacy. Jimmy was used to people dropping down to the morgue to talk to Dr. Mallard; it seemed as if almost everyone at NCIS confided in the elderly M.E., even the Director. When he had started working there, it had only taken him a week to realize that Gibbs and Ducky were particularly close. Jimmy stopped by his desk, and grabbed a clipboard and some paper, and then, securing the printout on top, he quietly left.

"So what is really on your mind, Jethro?" Ducky asked, not even bothering to pretend that he believed Gibbs' explanation for his visit. He moved towards the counter that held his electric kettle, fully intending to prepare himself the cup of tea he'd mentioned.

"Tony," Gibbs admitted quietly. "What are his chances, Duck?" he asked, as he followed his friend.

Ducky exhaled slowly, taking the time to gather his thoughts before he answered. He had been sure that was why Gibbs had come to see him, although he'd wanted him to confirm it. With Gibbs, it was never wise to launch into a conversation on a private matter that he, himself, had not initiated. He was perfectly capable of shutting you out, no matter how close you might be, and Ducky was positive that Gibbs needed to talk about what had happened. "Aside from his lungs, he's strong and young, Jethro, and you must remember, the human body is capable of withstanding an astounding amount of punishment. There's no point in pretending he will be fine when we find him, but as long as neither pneumonia nor severe infection has set in, judging from what I could see on the DVD, he should make a complete recovery," he said, as he plugged in the kettle.

"Palmer said infection could start as soon as twelve hours from when the wounds were inflicted," Gibbs said, and for the first time Ducky heard in his voice what this conversation was costing his friend.

"That is true, but it can also take as long as twenty four hours, so there's no need to expect the worst right now," Ducky assured him.

"And the pneumonia? You saw him, Duck – he could barely catch his breath," Gibbs said, his voice almost inaudible.

"Anyone in that situation would be having difficulties breathing," Ducky told him, deciding there was nothing to be gained by sharing his personal worries about Tony. He planned to call Brad Pitt later that morning and talk about the likelihood of Tony being in severe respiratory distress when they finally found him. "The pain must have been almost unbearable. I was amazed he managed to contain his reaction when the whip struck him. You should be proud of him, Jethro. That took an almost superhuman amount of self control."

"I am. Believe me, I am," Gibbs averred.

"How are you holding up?" Ducky asked him gently, knowing that question was likely to push Gibbs past his comfort zone, but sensing his need to verbalize his personal worries to someone who was safe.

"Going crazy," Gibbs admitted reluctantly, not meeting Ducky's eyes. "I can't stand waiting around while I know Tony's in trouble, and there's nothing I can do to help him."

Ducky remembered what the voice on the DVD had said, "You do know this is in no way your fault, don't you Jethro?" he asked.

"I get that, Ducky. I'm not some green second lieutenant who's shocked when he sends his troops out into battle and some of them get hurt," Gibbs snapped.

"But this is a little different, isn't it?" Ducky risked pushing.

"I'd be just as concerned if this was Ziva or McGee," Gibbs said emphatically.

"But it's not them," Ducky pushed, "and I'm not talking about your level of concern, Jethro. I'm talking about the fear."

Gibbs head snapped up, and he fixed Ducky with a look. They stood, staring at each other. Ducky wasn't willing to back down, not when that meant Gibbs could get away without facing his feelings. He was soon going to need to lead an apprehension and rescue mission, and well over a dozen lives would depend on his ability to think clearly and decisively. There would be no room for unresolved fears or self recriminations, so the issue had to be dealt with right then, and Ducky suspected Gibbs understood that on some level, or else he wouldn't have sought him out. Finally Gibbs looked away, and Ducky decided he had won that round. By not contradicting Ducky's remark, Gibbs had essentially admitted the M.E. was right. Knowing he couldn't push Gibbs any further, Ducky said, "It's only natural to be afraid when someone we love is in danger." He once again held Gibbs' eyes, daring him to deny it, when the other man glared at him. "But you're too professional to let that get in the way of your decision making, Jethro. You were right earlier, you are doing exactly what you would do if this were Ziva or Timothy, even if your feelings are slightly different, and you need to continue to hold that belief. You've always acted on your gut, and there's no reason to think it would lead you astray at this particular moment. You can't afford to start second guessing yourself now, not when you're this close to finding him. Everyone here has faith in you, Tony has faith in you - you need to make sure that you do, as well."

Gibbs looked at Ducky, and the M.E. wished he could tell what was going through his head. Finally his shoulders sagged and he took a deep breath. "You're right, as usual," he admitted with a small, but real smile. "Thanks, Ducky."

"You're quite welcome," Ducky answered him with a smile. "Now, my water is boiling and I really am going to have a cup of tea, and sit for a few minutes. I'm not a spring chicken anymore. Would you care to join me?"

"I'd like to," Gibbs said, "but I should probably go check in with Ziva, and see how her preparations are coming along. I put her in charge of equipping and arming everyone for the incursion, and I don't want her to terrify our own people before they even leave the Naval Yard."

"That is probably a wise decision," Ducky agreed with a small laugh. Then, sobering back up, he added, "We will get him back, Jethro, even though it seems to you it is taking too long."

"Yeah, we will," Gibbs said, as he turned to leave, feeling better than he had all morning. He was still angry as all hell at DeAngelo, and the rest of his group, but none of that anger was directed at himself any longer, and he found he could think more clearly. As he stepped into the elevator, he was already plotting how he would get DeAngelo to tell him what he needed to know.

Gibbs was almost to the training room, where Ziva had taken her people, when his cell phone rang. Pulling it out, he looked to see who was calling.

"Gibbs, its Fornell," the FBI agent said, when he answered the call. "Captain DeAngelo is here, and Director Shepard is letting us use Interview Room Four for our meeting. We're there now, waiting for you," Fornell said.

Gibbs realized from Tobias' tone, and the words he'd chosen to use, that he was still maintaining the charade of calling DeAngelo in to discuss Metro's role in pursuing the BOLO. "Got you," he acknowledged, as he turned to head back the way he'd just come. "I'll be up there in just a few minutes," he said, and then hit the disconnect button. 'Game on,' he told himself, as he continued down the hall.

"Gibbs," DeAngelo said, extending his hand and rising from the chair he'd been sitting in when Gibbs entered the room, "I was so sorry to hear about Agent DiNozzo. I hope you're closer to finding these people."

Gibbs just looked at the hand DeAngelo held out to him, refusing to take it. "Oh, we are. We're a lot closer DeAngelo," he said. "Why don't you sit back down. We have some things we need to discuss, and I don't have a lot of time."

DeAngelo settled himself back down in the chair, and tried to look relaxed and eager to help, although he felt his heart begin to beat faster when Fornell rose, and went over to shut the door Gibbs had just entered through.

Gibbs sat in a chair on the opposite side of the table and looked at DeAngelo. "As you are aware, we had already identified one of the kidnappers, David Barker. Late last night, we came up with another name, Peter Phelps." Gibbs paused there, to watch DeAngelo's reaction.

"Peter Phelps? I know a Peter Phelps, he used to be with the Bureau, although I'm sure it can't be the same person. The Phelps I know has great respect for the law," DeAngelo said calmly, although his mind was racing a mile a minute. 'How in the hell did they find out about Phelps? Peter almost never leaves the plantation in Calverton anymore, and hasn't been anywhere near the scenes of any of the crimes!'

Gibbs had to give the man points for being quick on his feet. "Oh, it's the same Phelps, so his attitude towards crime must have relaxed significantly since he left the FBI," Gibbs told him. "We know it's the same one, since he placed dozens of calls to David Barker. Your name appears over and over again on his call logs, for both his cell phone and his home number. Would you care to comment on that?" he asked.

"That's easy to explain," DeAngelo said smoothly. "Peter and I never lost contact. Several years ago he helped me through some very trying personal issues, and I tried to do the same for him when he was injured. I felt I owed him that much. We talked on a fairly regular basis, as I was one of the few people he was still friends with who could understand what he was going through."

"I see," Gibbs said. Pulling out a piece of paper from his jacket pocket, he looked at it and then asked, "Do the names Sylvia Cooper, Jillian Marshall, Alicia or Marcus Phelps mean anything to you?"

"Alicia is his ex-wife, they were divorced years ago, although they speak fairly regularly. Marcus is his brother, but the others don't ring a bell," DeAngelo said, as his stomach started to churn. "Should they?"

"I was hoping you would tell me," Gibbs said, with more edge in his voice. "I think you know a lot more than you're saying, DeAngelo. Next to Sylvia Cooper, Phelps called you more than anyone else. That's a little over and above an old friend offering up support. You and David Barker are almost tied for the number of calls received from Phelps over the past couple of months, and that reeks to me." As he had been speaking, Gibbs had been leaning in closer and closer to DeAngelo. When he saw DeAngelo's eyes dilate with fear, he knew they were right. 'He is lying through his teeth, now we just need to find a way to prove it,' Gibbs thought.

"Are you accusing me of something, Agent Gibbs?" DeAngelo asked stiffly, his voice ringing with righteous indignation.

"Should I be?" Gibbs rejoined.

"Fornell, this is totally uncalled for. I've done nothing but offer both Metro's, and my own personal support to the Bureau, ever since this whole nasty affair began, and I resent the implications Agent Gibbs is making," DeAngelo huffed.

Before Gibbs could say anything more, the phone on the wall began to ring, interrupting him. As Gibbs got up to answer it, irate that someone was interrupting his interrogation, DeAngelo said to Fornell, looking around the room nervously, "Is this a formal interrogation? Are we being monitored? You have no grounds for this. Just because my name appeared on the call list of your suspect, a man that I've known for over fifteen years, doesn't give you the right to treat me this way," he said indignantly. "I don't have to put up with this shit!" he declared to Fornell, "I'm leaving." He pushed himself away from the table and stood.

Gibbs, who had been listening to someone on the phone, hung up, spun around to face DeAngelo and barked, "Sit your ass back down, right now." He took a couple of menacing steps towards DeAngelo, and the man sank back down into the chair.

"You have no right to take that tone with me," DeAngelo said. "I'm going to have your job for this, Agent." He was still clinging firmly to the belief that a good offense was the best defense.

"You can _have_ my fucking job when I have my agent back," Gibbs said coldly, "although I don't think NCIS is going to be too eager to have _you_. That was my forensic specialists. They just got done reviewing Sylvia Cooper's phone records, and guess who she called on several different occasions? You! You told me you didn't know who she was!" Gibbs said, leaning down so his nose was almost touching DeAngelo's. "You're up to your neck in this. I want to know where Phelps is right now, and more importantly where DiNozzo and your latest victim, Galvin are. And I want to know NOW!" he spat.

"You can't prove Cooper was calling me. If she and Peter were friends, he might have called me from her phone," DeAngelo said, although that didn't sound convincing, even to his ears.

Gibbs had had it at that point, and he decided to take a risk. He didn't have time to play fair, or adhere to every rule in the book. Snorting at DeAngelo, he lied, "There'll be plenty of evidence, especially when we couple it with what we found out about you at Barker's house when we searched it yesterday."

That was when DeAngelo crumbled. Instead of denying everything again, he said, "I want to see a lawyer. I'm not saying anything more until I've gotten legal representation." He shut his mouth and folded his arms over his chest in defiance.

Gibbs stood up abruptly. "Get him a lawyer. Tell him he'd better hurry. I don't have a lot of time, and I'm not waiting for long. He _will_ tell me what I need to know," he said to Fornell, as he turned and stalked out of the room, slamming the door closed behind him.

When Gibbs got out in the hall he leaned against the wall, trying to regain his composure. That man knew where Tony was, and he had to get that information out of him. As he worked to control his breathing, the door to his right opened, and Jenny stepped out into the hallway. "What were you thinking?" she demanded quietly. "We don't have any evidence against him from Barker's."

"He doesn't know that," Gibbs snapped. "He's running scared now. Wait 'til his lawyer gets here. He'll tell the prick to try and make a deal, then we'll get the information we need."

"Jethro, they aren't going to let us make a deal with him. He's suspected of being involved in the cold blooded murder of five federal agents, one of whom happened to be an Assistant Director of the FBI. There's no way they won't throw everything they have at him. We've got enough for the warrants now. We'll find something to charge him with once we search his home, emails, phones and financials."

"DiNozzo doesn't have that long, Jen. We need to know where he is _now_," Gibbs said to her fiercely.

"And what are you going to say to him when he demands a deal for that information?" she wanted to know. "Expand on the lie you just told?"

"I won't need to," Gibbs said. "I'll get him to talk out of fear, no lies needed."

"I hope you're right," Jenny said. "For DiNozzo's sake."

"Me, too," Gibbs said, as he started down the hall.

"Where are you going?" Jenny called after him.

"Down to Abby's lab, to find out what else they learned about Cooper. Call me when DeAngelo's seen his lawyer," Gibbs called over his shoulder.

Jenny sighed, and headed off to call the Director of the FBI, and to get the warrants on DeAngelo in the works.

When Gibbs strode into Abby's lab, Primrose, Kreiger and Abby were clustered around McGee, as he sat in front of his laptop, typing at lightning speed. "What's going on?" he asked, causing all of the agents to jump.

Abby, who was the first to recover, said. "Gibbs! You _have_ to stop creeping up on people."

"Wasn't trying to, Abs. What are you all staring at?" he asked, knowing it must be something important if everyone in the room was focused on it.

"McGee's trying to get into Cooper's computer, but he's having trouble. This woman has mad skills, Gibbs. She's like a super hacker. Every time he gets around one of her firewalls, she throws another one up. He's been at it for over a half hour, and she's already put up three new firewalls," Abby said, with grudging respect.

Gibbs didn't begin to understand what she was really talking about, although he did get that Cooper was clearly a computer expert, since she was giving McGee fits, and he was one of the best in the country. "Are you going to be able to get in, McGee?" he asked.

"Please," Abby said, before McGee could respond. "Timmy's the best there is, he's like the 007 of hacking. If he can get into the FBI's and CIA's files, this lady's no match for him in the long run." Then, remembering Kreiger and Primrose were there, she quickly amended, "Not to say that he's done those things of course, it's just that he could, if he wanted to."

Kreiger and Primrose both just laughed, and went back to watching McGee as he struggled with his computer.

"Almost there, I think," McGee said, as he continued to type.

"What are the rest of you working on?" Gibbs asked pointedly, as three sets of eyes widened and swung over to look at him once again. Kreiger and Primrose immediately straightened and headed back over to their respective computers at top speed, as Primrose said, "I'm trying to find out if Barker has a cell phone registered to him, and have programs out searching through the various carriers' networks, and am waiting for warrants to get into Phelps' and DeAngelo's financials."

"And I'm watching Galvin's employer's accounts, to make sure they don't release the five million dollar ransom demand, and waiting for a warrant to start in on Cooper's business' banking records," Courtney quickly supplied. 'Waiting' - Tony didn't have time for 'waiting', Gibbs thought to himself. He realized she and Primrose didn't seem to have a problem illegally watching Galvin's company's finances, but weren't willing to do anything that might jeopardize their case against Phelps or DeAngelo. Well, he didn't want the case to go down the tubes either, but he sure as hell wasn't going to risk Tony's life to make sure that every 'i' was dotted and every 't' crossed.

"Warrants are on their way. Get started, they'll be here by the time you're in. DiNozzo doesn't have time for us to sit around and wait for pieces of paper," Gibbs barked.

"But..." Courtney started to object.

"Is anyone going to know exactly when you started to work on this?" Gibbs demanded.

"Well, no," Courtney said.

"Then what are you waiting for?" Gibbs snapped, making it clear he wasn't open to any questions or debate.

"On it," Primrose and Courtney answered at the same time.

"What about you, Abs?" Gibbs asked.

"I was trying to track Phelps' cell phone, but can only get a general vicinity. I know he's in Fauquier County in Virginia, but can't seem to get any more specific information. Cell phone reception is spotty in that area, there aren't a lot of towers out in the country, and that's what caused me to hit a dead end. I'm hoping when McGee gets into Cooper's computer, we'll be able to get more specific information, since we now have a specific county to target. Any references she has on her computer to Fauquier should tell us more about where he is."

"I want to know the second you have anything more, no matter how insignificant or incomplete it seems to you," Gibbs said. "And Abby, make sure everyone down here gets how it needs to be, understand?" he asked.

Abby nodded, feeling guilty. She'd been so absorbed, first in her own search wars, and then with McGee's, that she hadn't realized that Primrose and Kreiger were holding back on how deeply they delved into the searches they'd been assigned. She and McGee rarely worried about following the letter of the law, and she often forgot that other people didn't operate that way. "I'll make sure they understand," she promised Gibbs.

"Good," Gibbs said, as he turned to leave. He really did need to check on Ziva, and it wouldn't hurt to get an FBI team into Phelps' apartment, even though McGee had ascertained last night that he probably hadn't been living there for some time now.

Gibbs had just left the training facility, where Ziva and Balboa's people were checking over all of the weapons and divvying them up. Everything seemed to be going well there, although there had been the usual pre-operation jitters. Ziva and Balboa seemed to be dealing with that by instigating a little hand-to-hand practice. Given her current state of pent up aggression, Gibbs had felt the need to remind Ziva that he needed every one of the agents in good shape, free of cracked ribs, and debilitating bruises. Ziva didn't do 'waiting around to be useful' very well, and her frustration was reaching dangerous levels.

Gibbs was just about to go back down to check on Abby and McGee, when Fornell called him again, to tell him that DeAngelo's lawyer had arrived, and they were talking right now, and that Templeton had called to say she had the first round of warrants, and was on her way back to the Yard. As he headed back up to the bullpen, Fornell told him he'd also gotten a team dispatched to Phelps' apartment, and was in the process of organizing one for DeAngelo's as well, since they would soon have the warrant. Gibbs had grunted his approval, and disconnected just seconds before he appeared in the bullpen, next to Tony's desk, where Fornell sat. "How long has the lawyer been in with him?" Gibbs asked.

"No more than five minutes," Tobias answered him.

"The sooner he comes out, the easier DeAngelo is going to be to break," Gibbs observed.

"How do you want to do this?" Fornell asked.

"I'm going to take Ziva in with me," Gibbs told him, as he reached for his phone to call the Mossad agent up to the bullpen, in anticipation of the interrogation.

"Do you think that's a good idea, Jethro? Will she be able to hold it together? We can't afford to do anything that will get this case thrown out in court, and judges tend to frown on physical coercion," Fornell commented.

"She'll be fine, but I'll keep my eye on her," Gibbs assured him.

"I hope so, but who's going to keep their eye on you?" Fornell muttered, too softly for Gibbs to hear, as he picked up the phone to arrange the search of DeAngelo's home and office.

In Interrogation Room Four, DeAngelo and his lawyer were in the middle of a heated conversation. "There's no _way_ you're getting out of this," the lawyer, Hugo Middleton, was telling his client for the third time. "They have more than enough to get a judge to sign off on search warrants, and when they're done investigating every aspect of your life in minute detail, they'll have enough to lock you away for ever. Right now, the _best_ you can hope for is avoiding the death penalty. You and your associates are responsible for the murder of an Assistant Director of the FBI, and they aren't going to just let that slide."

"But I have information they need - information that will get them to where their agent and another kidnapping victim are being held. I want a deal in exchange for me telling them where to go," DeAngelo said adamantly.

"And I told you, Richard, they won't make a deal. You need to cooperate, and hope that the judge and the prosecution keep that in mind when it comes time to figure out who gets charged with what, and then later on, at the sentencing."

"So if you're so sure I'm going to be found guilty, what am I paying you for, Hugo?" DeAngelo asked angrily.

"You're paying me to keep your ass out of the electric chair, you idiot," Middleton told DeAngelo. "I can't believe someone as smart as you got mixed up in this mess!" Middleton had known DeAngelo for years, and Richard was the last person in the world he'd ever thought he would find himself representing one day. When DeAngelo had called him this morning, he'd thought it was a joke at first, and it was only the panic he heard in Richard's voice that had convinced him otherwise. "But we don't have time for you to explain it to me right now, there'll be plenty of time later. So what's it going to be, are you going to cooperate or not? We can't leave them out there waiting forever, the longer this takes, the less likely they are to say anything good in your favor."

"I'll talk to them, but I'm not making any promises," DeAngelo said.

"I'm not asking you to do me any favors, just yourself. You'd better keep that in mind, and I'll make sure you don't say anything that makes things worse for you," Middleton told him. "I'm going to go get them now, okay?" he asked as he stood and went to knock on the door.

The NCIS agent who'd been assigned to guard the door opened up, and Middleton said, "My client is ready to talk again. Please let Agent Fornell know." The agent assured him he would, and when the door was closed again, he took out his cell phone and called Fornell.

When Tobias hung up, he looked over at Ziva and Gibbs, who were talking with Jenny. "DeAngelo's ready to talk again," he informed them.

Gibbs stood up straighter, and immediately headed for the room, with Ziva following closely behind. The Mossad agent was now armed for the invasion, and in addition to the side arm she always wore, she had another pistol secured by a shoulder holster that was wrapped around the body armor she wore, and extra ammunition clips had been hooked to her belt. A large Bowie knife hung by her hip, and there were also several other weapons, not as readily visible, stashed away on various parts of her body. Her hair had been pulled tightly back off her face, and her always practical shoes had been exchanged for heavy combat boots, into which the legs of her black cargo pants had been tucked. She looked less like a federal agent, and far more like a guerilla warrior, and there was no mistaking the fact that she meant business. Jenny and Fornell brought up the rear, and when Gibbs and Ziva entered Interrogation Four, they both headed to the observation room.

Gibbs went directly to the chair across from DeAngelo and sat back down, while Ziva closed the door behind her. She then leaned back against it, fixing her eyes directly on DeAngelo, before she pulled a knife out of a sheath hidden by the sleeve of her black sweater, and used it to begin cleaning away imaginary dirt under her finger nails.

DeAngelo looked from one agent to the other, as the silence in the room stretched out, and began to close in on him. When he began to fidget slightly, and a thin layer of sweat covered his forehead, his lawyer, Middleton, said, "Do you have some questions for my client, or are you just going to sit there playing this intimidation game?"

"DeAngelo knows what I want to know," Gibbs said, as he continued to look at the police Captain.

"I want a deal," DeAngelo demanded of Gibbs, and it was all Middleton could do to keep from strangling his client. Clearly the man had ignored everything he'd been trying to tell him.

"A deal? You want a deal?" Gibbs asked. "You've sat where I'm sitting for a lot of years. Do you _really_ think my bosses are going to give _you_ a deal? You're going to prison for a very long time, DeAngelo, whether or not you receive the death penalty. Although, you should remember that some of the prisons out there are pretty rough. A lot of them don't have enough guards to adequately protect the inmates."

"You're not going to scare me, Gibbs," DeAngelo said.

"I'd think it'd be hard, being an ex-cop, if you found yourself in one of those understaffed places. Might almost be like having a death sentence, even if you somehow manage to avoid it," Gibbs mused, as if DeAngelo hadn't spoken. Then, turning his back to DeAngelo, he looked over at the Mossad agent, who was still playing with her knife by the door. "Ziva, what do _you_ think Captain DeAngelo's chances would be against a well placed shiv?"

"Without protection? I will bet you twenty that he does not make it through the first week," Ziva said to Gibbs, after she'd paused to consider his question.

"That's a sucker bet, Ziva, although _I'll _bet _you_ he doesn't even make it three days," Gibbs smirked, "since there's no way he'll receive any protection, _not_ if he doesn't give us any help. Of course, we shouldn't forget Nussbaum. He was an Israeli citizen, after all. Do you think DeAngelo would be happier if I handed him over to you and the Mossad, and we sent him over there for trial?"

"It _would_ be a much shorter process," Ziva said, as she pretended to think about it. "There would be no need for a long drawn out trial, and no question as to what the sentence would be, as Israel has a zero tolerance policy on kidnapping. He would not need to spend months being detained, or possibly even out on bail, while he waits for the trial, so perhaps it would be better for him, no?" she said with a predatory grin.

"Calverton!" DeAngelo cried.

"What?" Gibbs said, whirling to look at DeAngelo.

"Your agent, Galvin, Phelps – they're all out on a plantation we're renting in Calverton, Virginia," DeAngelo spewed out. "Promise me you won't hand me over to the Mossad."

"Let's see how fast and how clear you can give directions to it, and I'll think about it," Gibbs said. "Ziva, go get a map and some paper. I'll keep the Captain and his counselor company while you're gone."


	21. Chapter 21

"**A Friend in Need" – Chapter Twenty-one**

Tuesday morning, Sylvia arrived at her office at her usual time, 8:30 A.M., got the coffee started, and turned on her computer. After a quick check of her emails, nothing interesting or urgent jumping out at her, she stopped and went to get her first cup of coffee to really start her workday. As she resumed her seat in front of her computer, she noticed that someone had tried to breach one of her firewalls, but wasn't overly worried about it, as she'd set up several layers of protection on her system, and was confident that no one could get in. She'd had the occasional hacker take a crack at her system, only to give up after a few failed attempts. It was now 11:00 A.M., and she hadn't moved from her computer since 9:00, her coffee long since forgotten, and her fingers flying across the keys. One hour ago she'd had to revise her level of confidence; whoever was trying to get in was good, damned good. She'd quickly thrown up a couple more walls, while she backtracked the attack to see who was being so persistent. When she realized the hack was coming from NCIS, she'd momentarily panicked. Switching over to the program she had created to keep track of all the activity on every syndicate member's bank accounts, she saw that someone had checked on Peter's, Richard's and David's accounts. That was not good! They were obviously in big trouble; NCIS clearly knew who they were, and it was only a matter of time before they also figured out where they were. It was all over, and they were out of time.

As she printed out all of the bank information for the overseas accounts, in preparation for running an information scrubbing program in hopes of keeping NCIS from finding out everything, she picked up the phone and called out to the plantation. When Phelps answered, she said frantically, "Peter, its Sylvia. NCIS is on to us. You need to get back into town as fast as you can. When you get here, come pick me up at the office."

"Sylvia, what are you talking about?" Phelps asked her, rubbing at his throbbing head. He'd had to deal with Barker's and DeAngelo's fears last night, so the last thing he needed was for her to start freaking out too.

"Look, we don't have time to discuss this right now. You just need to trust me on this. Get out of there as fast as you can," she said. Then something occurred to her. "And Peter, leave your cell phone there. It won't take them long to start trying to track our cell phones, now that they know who we are, just like we did with Kreiger. I'm going to go down the block, and then disengage mine, but I'll be back here waiting for you by the time you get here. Just hurry," she ordered shrilly, and then hung up before he could ask anymore questions.

Peter cursed to himself when he realized Sylvia had disconnected. This was just what they needed. In a little under twenty four hours, everything he'd spent the last six months planning had started to go down the toilet, and it was all that fucking Gibbs' fault. Now Sylvia was in a panic, and although he didn't know why she thought NCIS knew who they were, he wasn't willing to stake his freedom, or his life, on her being wrong. Sylvia wasn't prone to panic, so something real had scared her. He would need to go into the city and hear the whole story from her, before he could evaluate the validity of the threat. With that in mind, he opened the top drawer of the desk at which he was sitting, then after pulling his cell phone out of his pocket, he dropped it into the drawer and closed it once more. He then stood and headed for the kitchen.

When he walked in, Barker and Jillian, who'd come out that morning to spend some time with Barker, were talking quietly at the breakfast table, having just finishing eating. Totally missing the fact that they had immediately stopped talking when he entered, Peter grabbed his sports jacket from one of the pegs on the wall by the back porch door, shrugged it on, and said, "I'm taking the Explorer and going into town to see Sylvia. Keep your eye on things here for me. I should be back sometime this afternoon, but call me if you need me before then." Patting at his jacket pocket, just to double check, he said, "I've got the prepaid phone with me, so call me on that number."

David was so glad to see the back side of Phelps, he didn't even ask him why he was leaving. He'd had enough of Peter and his superior attitude in the last few hours to last him a lifetime. When DeAngelo had shown up the night before and played the taped conversation he'd had with that FBI agent for them, both he and DeAngelo had tried to convince Peter that they would be better off getting rid of Galvin and DiNozzo, and closing down shop. But Peter wouldn't even entertain the idea, calling them both cowards, and arguing that Gibbs couldn't really do anything, since he didn't have any solid information. When DeAngelo had tried to argue with him, he'd snapped at the man, telling him he'd been a federal agent, not some local LEO, and knew how these things worked. DeAngelo had taken offense and stalked out. After another failed attempt to discuss it this morning, David had become even more concerned with Phelps' ability to see things objectively. DeAngelo was right; the man really did have a target fixation. When Peter had come into the kitchen, David had just gotten done explaining to Jillian what had happened last night, and he was actually relieved to hear Phelps was going out for awhile. It would make it easier for he and Jillian to talk about their options, if they didn't have to worry about being overheard. "Yeah, no problem," he said to Phelps, who didn't even acknowledge the answer, as he rushed out the door and headed to the SUV. Barker and Jillian watched him leave, and when the door slammed shut, they turned to face each other, and resumed discussing their options.

When Sylvia had hung up, she'd activated her best firewall, hoping to stall the NCIS hacker for at least another half hour, and then stood, grabbing her cell phone, purse and keys. She locked the door behind her, and hurried out to the street. As she started down the block, she saw a cab coming down the road, and had an idea. Raising her hand, she hailed the cab, and when the car pulled over, she hopped in. She gave the driver the address for her favorite coffee shop, a mile away and pulled her cell phone out and turned it onto silent. When she was sure the driver wasn't looking, she slid the phone into the crevice between the seat and upholstered back, pushing the phone in as deeply as it would go. 'Let them trace this,' she thought smugly, as she relaxed back against the seat. 'This is an even better solution than turning the phone off,' she thought. They could chase around after the cab for hours, trying to figure out where she was headed, and maybe, just maybe, it would buy she and Peter some time. When the cab let her out in front of the coffee shop, she went in, and, after buying herself a cup of coffee, she hailed another cab, and headed back to the office, determined to hold NCIS off long enough for Peter to get there.

* * *

By 11:30, NCIS was a hub of activity and the air tingled with both tension and anticipation. Gibbs had gotten the address for the plantation, and a rough ground plan of the house, out of DeAngelo. Ziva had taken that information, and, using the address, had found the rental company that handled the property. She was in the process of going over a more detailed ground plan with Balboa and Gibbs that had been faxed over to them by the real estate company. Fornell had called the information in to his legal department, and warrants were being issued that would allow Gibbs and his team to enter the property, and Templeton had been once again dispatched to pick them up. Jenny was busy on the phone with the Virginia State Police, informing them of the impending operation, and asking for back up assistance in establishing road blocks to prevent any of the suspects from fleeing, once the incursion started.

Down in Abby's lab, things were finally beginning to pick up. McGee had just succeeded in cracking into Cooper's computer, and was in the process of trying to copy the data stored on her hard drive. Unfortunately, he was encountering a problem. Apparently Cooper had initiated some sort of data cleanup program, and information was disappearing before he could get it all copied. Because of the need to hurry to try and save as much data as possible, he wasn't even attempting to read any of the information as it was being transferred, afraid that would slow his computer down. They would have to sort thru what they got later, when the material was safely on an NCIS computer. Fortunately, Gibbs had called down to let them know that DeAngelo had given up the location for where Tony was being held, so the information they were getting now, would be more important later, when they were preparing the court case against the kidnappers.

Ducky was in the morgue, making last minute preparations for his end of the mission. Even though Jimmy had spoken with Brad Pitt the night before, he had called Bethesda, himself, that morning to confer with the specialist. As they talked, Ducky discovered that Jimmy hadn't been terribly forthcoming with information about the source of the trauma Tony had suffered, and Brad was more than a little worried when Ducky gave him more details. They both agreed that if Tony hadn't received any kind of medical attention after the whipping, and since it had been almost 24 hours, the likelihood of him having developed bronchitis, at the very least, was extremely high. Brad wasn't willing to rule out the possibility of pneumonia, either. He felt that Tony was likely to be running a fever by now, due both to bronchial infection, and infections in the various wound sites, and could well be delirious when they found him. Ducky had learned that Calverton was over an hour away from D.C., and that there were no Trauma One centers in the area. He had shared that information with Brad, who made arrangements to have one of Bethesda's Life Flight helicopters on standby. Once the recovery team was close to the location, the helicopter would be dispatched, ready to pick up Tony and any other people in need of critical care. Brad would also be notified, and would be available by radio to the paramedics on the flight, in case Tony went into respiratory arrest on the way to the hospital. By the time Ducky hung up, although he was very worried about what they would find when they got to Calverton, he felt they had done all they could in anticipation of Tony's medical needs. Of course, the white elephant in the room, the fear no one was voicing, was the possibility that all of these preparations would prove to be futile by the time they got there.

Templeton returned to the Yard at 12:05, with all of the necessary warrants, and everyone was called to the bullpen for last minute instructions. Jenny began the talk by telling them that the Virginia State Police had established a staging area, half a mile down the road from the property, in the parking lot of an elementary school which had been released for the day, and that two ambulances from the local hospital, a prisoner transport van, and two FBI forensic teams would be standing by waiting when the NCIS teams got there. She also informed them that there was room for the helicopter from Bethesda in the parking lot, as well. Local LEOs would also be standing by to offer backup, if needed, once the operation was in play. At the end of her talk Jenny said, "Let's make sure everyone's careful out there, and remember, our goal is to capture these people, so that the families of their victims have the satisfaction of seeing them stand trial."

Gibbs was the next to speak. "Everyone's had time to study the ground plan of the house, so you all know where the possible entrances and exits are. We'll divide into three teams. Charlie Team will be headed up by Balboa, and will consist of McGuire, Henderson, and McGee. You'll take the basement entrance, through the storm cellar doors. Dobbs, you're in charge of Bravo Team, which includes Primrose, McCartney and Kaiser, and you will enter through the front doors. Alpha Team is mine, and Fornell, David and Templeton will be with me, and we'll go in through the kitchen entrance. You will wait for my go, and we will all enter at the same time. Everyone will be on headsets, so as soon as you clear a room, make sure you announce it. Our goal is to secure the scene as quickly as possible, and then locate the prisoners. Once the area is clear, and the perps are secured, we'll call in any medical or backup teams as needed. Any questions?"

No one raised their hand. They'd been waiting for hours to get the operation underway, and emotions and adrenaline were running high. When he saw that no one was gong to speak, he said, "Grab your gear and head down to vehicles. We'll form a caravan on our way out there, and regroup in our teams once we get to the staging area." With that final order, the room snapped into action. People spread out, gathering up the body armor and weapons assigned to them by Ziva, before they began to move towards the stairs. Abby had worked her way through the crowd and grabbed onto Gibbs' arm as he was preparing to leave. "I want to ride along, Gibbs," she said to him, her eyes wide and pleading.

"Abs, we've already talked about this. It isn't going to be safe there, and I don't have an extra body to spare to protect you," Gibbs told her.

"I have to be there for him," Abby said. "He was there for me when I needed him."

"And he always will be, Abs," Gibbs told her gently. "But he wouldn't want you to put yourself in danger. The best thing you can do for him is to stay here, work with Kreiger, and keep getting me every bit of evidence you can from their computers, banking records, and cell phones."

"But..." Abby began, her lip trembling.

Gibbs reached out and softly pressed a finger to her quivering lip. "No buts, Abby. We all have our jobs to do in this. Tony's done his, now you need to keep doing yours." Then, to soften the blow, he bent down and kissed her cheek. When his face was pressed next to hers, he whispered, "He knows you love him, Abs. I'll call you the minute we head towards the hospital, so you can be there waiting." Then he gave her one more kiss, and turned to leave.

When Ziva saw Abby waylay Gibbs, she reached over and pulled McGee close to her. In a quiet voice she said, "Tony will most likely be in very bad shape when we find him. It would be better if Ducky and Palmer had seen to him briefly, before Gibbs gets to him." McGee looked at her in puzzlement. "We do not have time to argue about this. Trust me to know best, yes? If you find Tony before Gibbs, and it is safe, promise me that you will call Ducky first. Promise me," she said again, even more forcefully.

McGee didn't understand at all, but something about the look Ziva was giving him convinced him that what she was asking was important. He wanted to question her, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gibbs kiss Abby's cheek, and knew he didn't have the time. Taking one more hard look at his partner, he saw the conviction in her eyes, and because he trusted her unequivocally, he merely nodded.

"Toda," Ziva said with a small smile, as they both turned to follow Gibbs down to the car.

* * *

At the same time Gibbs and the rest of the incursion team were getting ready to leave Washington for Calverton, Virginia, Peter Phelps was pulling in to the city, having driven faster than he was wont to do. By 12:20 he had driven his car into the parking garage for the building that housed Sylvia's consulting firm, and was getting into the elevator. He was hoping that Sylvia had calmed down some since he'd spoken to her, but when he got off the elevator on the seventh floor, and let himself into her office, he found her hunched over her desktop computer, typing away at break neck speed.

As soon as she felt his presence behind her, she started talking, never ceasing her rapid fire typing. "They found us, those sonsofbitches found us!! They've been in our bank accounts and everything!" she exclaimed, clearly equally furious and frightened.

"How is that possible?" Peter asked, stunned.

"How do you think?" she exclaimed, indignantly. "They hacked my computer! Hell, they hacked it faster than I thought possible! These bastards are good, they're damn good, and they're downloading all of my data. I've isolated any information on our bank accounts, they won't get through to that, I put it on a disk, and printed it, then deleted it all! Now I'm running a data scrubbing program, but they're already in, so I don't know how much they've already seen and copied."

Peter had no idea how Sylvia did her computer magic, but in this instance, he was quicker than she was, and walked over and pulled the plug on her computer. As her monitor went blank, Sylvia froze, fingers still balanced over the keyboard, and looked up at Peter in shock, flummoxed that something that simple hadn't occurred to her as a solution.

"They hacked your computer?" Peter demanded incredulously.

When Sylvia nodded, indignation ringing in his voice, he exclaimed, "But that's illegal!!"

Sylvia looked over at him sharply, thinking he'd just made a joke, and found herself almost wanting to laugh when she realized that he was serious. "Why don't you call the FBI and report them?" she snarked sarcastically, although her voice was shaking. Now that her attention wasn't focused solely on her computer, she realized her hands were shaking, and that she was breathing erratically. She could almost hear the blood pulsing in her veins, and it felt as if her heart was about to beat out of her chest.

"Peter, we told you what we found in Gibbs' file! He doesn't play by the rules! Whatever it takes to get his man back, that's what he'll do, and the people who work for him are no different. We should have seen this coming, hell, we DID see this coming, you just didn't want to listen when we told you. He's NOT you. He doesn't play by FBI rules. He doesn't recognize anybody's rules but his own. They're going to come get us if we don't get the hell out of here," she said to him passionately.

Months ago, they had rented space in an adjacent office, under one of the dummy company names, and it contained nothing but an expensive file cabinet, with a lock that was reputed to be unpickable. In that cabinet were housed their false identity papers, and passports, $10,000 in cash for each of them, and refills of all of Peter's prescriptions, under the false identity they had created. No one else knew about that office, or those identities. Sylvia had been adamant that they keep this information completely away from the others, just in case anything went wrong.

Well, something had very definitely gone wrong, and it was time to leave, now. Peter looked at Sylvia and saw her fear, but he also saw her determination, and he realized she was right. They had to leave now or Gibbs would find them, and jail was no place for a former FBI agent. He regretted losing out on the money they would have collected on Galvin, and the next victims, but it couldn't be helped.

"Alright, let's go. Do you want to call Jillian, or should I call Barker?" he asked her.

"Neither, we're not calling anyone, we're just leaving, right now. It's us we have to worry about, they're on their own, Peter."

Peter looked at her, amazed by what she'd just said. He hadn't thought Sylvia capable of such ruthlessness. "What about Richard? I have to at least warn him, because believe me, a former police captain will not last long in prison, Sylvia. He's a friend, I can't hang him out to dry."

"Peter, he knew the risks. We can save ourselves, the others are going to have to do the same. We have to go right now, or it will be too late, and we can't afford to alert the others, for fear they might do something that lets NCIS know we're running."

Almost afraid to hear her answer, Peter asked calmly, "Are we going together, Sylvia?"

She rolled her eyes at him and practically stamped her foot in her consternation; for such a smart man he was proving to be amazingly dense. "Of course we're going together, Peter!! Why the hell do you think I called YOU, and only you, to come here, and told you to leave your cell there? They're going to track your cell. Hell, they're going to track all of our cells! Now, can we please talk about this later, after we are anywhere other than HERE!?!"

Peter smiled, grabbed her hand and started pulling her towards the door. That was all he needed to know, the rest they would figure out as they went along.

* * *

They formed a motley caravan as they raced along I-66 westward, a combination of SUV's, sedans, and trucks. Gibbs led the charge, with Ziva and McGee in the car with him. No one had said much, partially out of tension, and partially because they didn't want to risk disrupting Gibbs' attention, as he strove to test the limits of the engine in the Dodge Charger he was driving. From where he sat in the back seat, McGee could only imagine what those behind them thought, as they struggled to keep up. He cringed silently when Gibbs' cell phone rang, and he watched his boss take a hand off of the steering wheel to pull the cell phone out of his pocket.

Getting his cell open, Gibbs held it up to his ear and grunted, "Gibbs," into the speaker, and then paused to listen to what the caller had to say. "Shit, not a big surprise though," he said in response to something he'd been told, and followed up with, "When was that?" Again there was silence while Gibbs listened, and both Ziva and McGee strained to catch anything that would tell them what the call was about. "What about the office?" he asked, and cursed, "Damn it!" in response to the answer he'd been given. "Have you put out BOLOs on them?" he inquired, and waited again while the caller responded. "Well, maybe we'll catch a break and they'll all be in the house," he said, as he swerved the car sharply to the right to take an exit ramp. Ziva and McGee both scrambled for something to hang onto as the car lurched forward, and Gibbs hung up.

"That was Fornell," Gibbs told them, as he glanced down at the GPS monitor on the dashboard. "His teams went in to Phelps' and Cooper's apartments and didn't find anyone. They also hit Cooper's office, but it was empty. According to Fornell, it looks as if Phelps hasn't lived in his apartment for months. There was almost no furniture in it, and absolutely no electronics, not even a radio, so clearly, he doesn't have any intention of ever going back there. Cooper's place looked lived in, but she wasn't there. They think she knew we were on to them, since her computer at the office had been unplugged from the wall, and the coffee pot was still going, a sign that she left in a hurry. They've got a team headed to Jillian Marshall's place right now, but I'm not holding my breath," he said bitterly.

"They have no way of knowing that we know about Calverton, though," McGee pointed out, and exchanged a worried glance with Ziva, when Gibbs didn't answer.

When Gibbs had learned that Cooper had run, he had to force himself to breath. 'If she's on the run, that means they know that NCIS is closing in. What does that mean for Tony and Galvin? Will they decide that the plantation hideout is no longer safe? Will they desert it? Take the hostages with them for leverage, or even worse, kill them so they aren't burdened with them? What will we find when we finally get there?' His thoughts were shifting so rapidly, he had to forcibly shut them down, or he wouldn't be able to drive, let alone lead the rescue mission.

It only took another ten minutes to reach the staging area, and when they pulled into the already half full parking lot, Gibbs parked the car over by the helicopter from Bethesda. As the other vehicles were arriving, he went in search of Captain Rinks, who was in charge of the State Police contingent. It took over ten minutes for all of the cars from NCIS to get there, ten minutes that Gibbs paced impatiently up and down the parking lot, with Captain Rinks in tow, as he briefed him on the plan. McGee and Ziva had been dispatched to coordinate with the local police, which really meant they were to make the LEOs understand that they were expected to stand down until Gibbs gave them the signal to approach the plantation home. No one wanted an inexperienced officer panicking, and getting either them self or one of the federal agents injured as a result, or worse yet, inadvertently hitting one of the hostages by mistake.

When everyone was amassed, body armor secured, and guns loaded and ready, Gibbs called them all together one last time for a quick briefing. There was only one property between the school and the land that the plantation house sat on, and the local police force had quietly evacuated it an hour before. They would cross through that property, and then approach the plantation from the east, since the foliage was heaviest on that side, and would provide the best coverage. Gibbs had been assured that they would be able to get within twenty five yards of the house before they would run out of trees and shrubbery for cover. "Okay people, break into your teams now," he ordered. When the Alpha, Bravo and Charlie teams had been formed, he continued. "I'll take the lead when we move out. Stay with your teams. Once I have a visual on the house, I'll stop, while I look for any visible hostiles. If the coast is clear, I'll give the go, and we will all move out at the same time. Remember, prisoner safety is our priority. You do anything needed to insure Galvin's and DiNozzo's safety. Are we clear?" When eleven heads nodded at him, he said, "Let's move out then."

The teams dropped behind Gibbs as he headed through the school's playing field and into the wooded area that surrounded it. One of the State policemen had been assigned to act as a guide, and he walked along beside Gibbs as they pressed forward. It took under ten minutes for them to reach the edge of the property Phelps and his people were renting. When Gibbs could see the house, he held up his hand, a silent signal for everyone to halt while he assessed the situation. They were facing the south side of the house, and when Gibbs drew up his binoculars he was able to see a small portion of the kitchen through one of the windows, although he couldn't see any people. Scanning down the side of the house to the front, he could see a television playing in another room, which he supposed was the living room. He could tell there were at least two men in that room, the silhouettes of their heads visible over the back of the chairs they were sitting in. Holding up two fingers, Gibbs pointed towards the front side window. That information would be helpful to Dobbs and his team when they entered through the front door. He swept his gaze across each of the windows once more, hoping to discover the location of some of the other people in the house, to no avail. Then, looking carefully around the yard surrounding the house for signs of anyone and finding none, he determined they could go in. Pulling the binoculars down from his face, and drawing his side arm, Gibbs took a deep, steadying breath, and then raised his arm and gave the signal to move forward. As a unit, he and the people behind him crouched as low as they could, and with guns drawn, they moved forward, and just like that, the incursion had begun.

* * *

In his personal prison, Tony lay on the cot, no longer trying to move. At some point, before rational thought became too much of an effort, he had realized the pain was slightly less if he held his body as still as possible, and even though that hadn't helped his labored breathing, it had prevented the pain from forcing him into unconsciousness. By now, however, Tony was actively working to separate his brain from his corporeal self, trying to disassociate his awareness from the wreck of a body that was coughing and gasping for air, and shuddering as pain razored across its flesh. Consciousness was no longer his friend, and he had given up on the hope that help would be there soon. As a matter of fact, Tony was no longer sure where he was, or why he hurt the way he did, and the memory of any other reality was rapidly fading. His stillness wasn't a cognizant choice anymore, it was more a byproduct of his body's decision to start shutting down, to give up the struggle required to do even the simplest of functions. Unless a drastic change occurred soon, Tony wouldn't last much longer.


	22. Chapter 22

"**A Friend in Need" – Chapter Twenty-two**

**Warning:** _Graphic description of injuries - if this makes you uncomfortable, you might want to skip the last half of this chapter._

Inside the plantation house, the inhabitants had paired off and were gathered in various spots, doing whatever they could to escape the anxiety and pressure that had permeated the air ever since Barker and his men had returned the day before with the NCIS agent. No one had been able to relax since then, and DeAngelo's visit the night before had only ramped up the growing sense of apprehension and turmoil. Even though Barker's men had not been privy to the argument between Phelps, Barker and DeAngelo, they had felt it's after effects. Phelps had become even more aloof and superior in his attitude towards the others in the house, and Barker's temper was on a hair trigger, causing him to slam doors, snap at his men, and curse for no apparent reason. Everyone had been glad to see Jillian arrive that morning, hoping her presence would calm Barker down, and his people had gone out of their way to provide them with some privacy, avoiding the kitchen where the two sat talking.

Holmes and Franklin, the most raucous of the occupants, were in the living room, game controllers in their hands, deeply engrossed in a game of Halo. They hooted enthusiastically in triumph whenever their character did well in the game, and groaned with equal volume when their character lost a fight, content to lose themselves in a world of make believe. Joe White and Phil Garrison were in a room down the hall from the kitchen, where the camera in Galvin's room was providing a live feed of their prisoner's activities on the monitor in front of them. White had wandered in there an hour ago, having just returned from checking on DiNozzo. He had been disturbed by how labored the man's breathing had become, and didn't know what they would do if he ended up dying on them. Not really feeling up to playing video games, but not wanting to be alone, he had sought out Garrison. Garrison had been glad for the company, and they sat together, occasionally checking the monitor, while they discussed sports, trying hard to forget everything that had happened the day before.

Jillian and David were still seated at the kitchen table, yet again going over the details of the tape DeAngelo had played the night before, trying to figure out what Gibbs' next move would be. Barker had described the torture of DiNozzo the day before, knowing Jillian was tough enough to hear it, and desperately needing to get it off his chest. He wasn't averse to physical violence, but had never felt the need to utilize it for no real reason. Even though he'd reluctantly agreed to Phelps' plan yesterday, he hadn't believed it would end in the results Phelps had been hoping for and expected. He had wanted to stop long before Phelps had let him, and the nausea he had begun to experience by the end of the whipping had yet to abate, and that, coupled with his fear of Gibbs, had him at the breaking point. Together, he and Jillian were trying to decide if there was any way they could get out of the whole thing at this late date.

Outside the house, all three of Gibbs' teams had moved into place, crouching next to their assigned entry ways, using the house as shelter, quietly saying, "In position," over their headsets, to let Gibbs know they were ready to enter. Dobbs, Primrose and the rest of the Bravo team crouched along the side of the house, next to the stairs that would lead them up onto the veranda where the front door was located, guns drawn, waiting for Gibbs to give the command to enter. Each team had reported that they were in place, so Dobbs knew the signal would come at any moment. The anticipation of the imminent entry had adrenaline pumping through his system, making it hard to stay still. When Gibbs' voice crackled "Go!" over the headsets, Dobbs nodded at his team, and as one they moved up the stairs.

McCartney and Kaiser positioned themselves on either side of the door, and Dobbs, with Primrose at his back, reached out and turned the door knob. Discovering it was unlocked, Dobbs pushed the door open and stepped in, crouching low. Taking only a second to get his bearings, he moved silently through the entry way. Off to his left was the living room, and two men sat with their backs to the doorway, facing a television, game controllers in hand. When the others in his team had made their way into the house as silently as possible, he waved his hand forward, and together they entered the living room. McCartney and Kaiser snuck up behind the couch the two men sat on, and pressed their guns against the backs of their heads, placing their free hands over the men's mouths. Dobbs and Primrose moved into view in front of them, and could see the surprise on the men's faces when they were quietly told to freeze. It took very little time to bind and gag the men, immobilizing them where they sat, the gags intended to prevent them from sending out a warning to the others in the house. After Dobbs had announced the living room secured, with two perps captured, leaving Kaiser to guard the two, Dobbs and the rest of his team quickly swept out of the room and proceeded to check out the adjoining study, only to find it unoccupied. From there they advanced into the dining room, again finding it empty. Confident that the front of the house was secured, they headed back to the living room. "Front of the house is clear. Gibbs and his team are supposed to sweep the back of the house, so we're moving on to the upstairs," Dobbs told Kaiser. "Stay here and keep an eye on these two," he ordered, as he and the other three members of his team headed for the stairs which led to the second story of the house.

While this had been going on, Gibbs and his team had also entered the house through the back door. When the door crashed open, Gibbs and Ziva charged in, and Gibbs called out, "Federal Agents, freeze!" to the two people sitting at the table in the kitchen. David and Jillian leapt to their feet in confusion, and turned towards the voice. When they did, they saw four people standing there, with guns pointed directly at them. Automatically, their hands flew up in surrender, and Ziva advanced towards Barker, intending to pat him down for any weapons. Fornell jerked his gun towards Jillian, and told Liz, "Templeton, go check out the woman," while he and Gibbs stood guard.

"Hands on your head and spread your legs, now!" Ziva hissed after she had grabbed Barker and pushed him face forwards against the nearest wall. When he complied, she pulled the gun out of the holster at his hip, automatically checked that the safety was on, then tossed it to Gibbs, and began a thorough search for any other hidden weapons.

Templeton had moved towards Jillian, and was reaching out to grab her left arm, intending to twirl her around, when Jillian lashed out with her other hand, chopping across the wrist on Liz's gun hand, causing her to loosen her grip on the gun, and allowing Jillian to grab it. The terror that sparked with the recognition of Gibbs and the Mossad officer had Jillian reacting without thought, self preservation overwhelming rational responses. Her military training kicked in, and the moves she employed were all ingrained responses to an enemy laying hands on her. While Liz was trying to recover, Jillian swung the palm of her other hand into Liz's windpipe, temporarily stunning her and causing her to fall to the ground. David saw what had happened out of the corner of his eye, and lashed out with his foot, catching Ziva on the shoulder as she was beginning to straighten back up, having just patted down his legs and ankles looking for a concealed gun. Ziva lost her balance and landed on her butt, but before David could move, Ziva had sprung back onto her feet in a crouch and lunged forward, tackling David behind the knees, sending him to the ground next to her. While this was going on, Jillian raised the gun she'd grabbed out of Liz's hands and aimed it at Fornell. Seeing this, Gibbs immediately pulled his trigger, hitting Jillian in the right shoulder, causing her to fall backwards. The gun went spiraling out of Jillian's hand and skittered across the floor, towards where Ziva and David were now rolling around, in a deadly struggle to establish dominance. As Jillian flew back, her head slammed against the kitchen counter, knocking herself unconscious, and she crumpled to the floor next to Liz. With one threat temporarily eliminated, Gibbs and Fornell trained their guns on Ziva and Barker, but the pair was grappling so violently they couldn't get a clean shot at the man.

All three agents in the kitchen watched as Ziva and Barker rolled around. When Barker was on top it was almost impossible to see Ziva, as he was at least a half a foot taller and easily had sixty or seventy pounds on her, but Gibbs wasn't overly worried, having complete faith in Ziva's skill in hand to hand combat. He wondered whether Barker would survive the struggle, but he couldn't bring himself to call out a reminder to Ziva that Jenny wanted the perps captured alive. He'd be just as happy to watch Ziva snap the man's neck, and planned to shoot him through the head himself, if it looked as though the impossible might happen, and the man managed to overpower his agent. From where she lay on the floor, Liz watched the Mossad agent wrestle with Barker, and couldn't help but be in awe of the woman's agility and strength. Fornell winced, when Ziva, who was now sitting on top of Barker's chest, reached up and wrapped her hands through his hair, then proceeded to use that grip to bang his head against the floor repeatedly. When Barker ceased to move, Ziva sprang to her feet, and after delivering one more savage kick to the unconscious Barker's side, she turned to face Gibbs, a wild and feral grin on her face. "Everything is now under control," she told him calmly, and then she looked down at Templeton and asked, "Are you alright?" When Liz nodded mutely, Ziva reached out a hand and pulled the FBI agent to her feet.

"Kitchen clear, two hostiles down," Gibbs said into his headset, as he nodded his head towards the hall door.

"Stay here and watch these two," Fornell ordered Liz, as he fixed her with a disappointed stare, and handed her back her gun, which he had just scooped off the floor. Without another word, he turned his back on her and followed Ziva and Gibbs as they began to progress down the hallway off the kitchen.

White and Garrison had jumped when they heard the sound of a gunshot coming from the kitchen and had frantically grabbed for the weapons sitting on the table beside them, White grabbing the shotgun and Garrison a semi-automatic. Once armed, they had stilled, listening for any more sounds that would give them a clue as to what was going on. "What in the hell's happening?" Garrison whispered to White.

"I don't know, but I doubt if either Jillian or David shot at each other, so I'm betting it's the cops or NCIS," White whispered back. In the distance they could hear the sound of a fight, and they stood up from their chairs, preparing to investigate. They were just beginning to move towards the door when they heard footsteps in the hall, and a female voice calling out, "Clear," followed by the sound of a door opening and a male voice echoing the "Clear." Garrison and White both realized what that meant. The cops were there!

Gibbs, Ziva and Fornell were progressing down the hallway, having checked the pantry and the laundry room, and were headed for what the ground plan had described as a small bedroom at the end of the hall, when shots rang out of that door, hitting the ceiling and sending plaster debris raining down on their heads.

"Get down," Gibbs called out, as he fired at the door. He knew he'd missed when the doorway beside him erupted into wooden splinters, a few embedding in the back of his vest and in his shoulder. He saw Ziva trying to crawl her way towards the doorway just up ahead of them, which had to be where the shots were coming from, but before she got even a foot along her journey, there was another shot and the plaster was raining down on them again, along with pieces of lathing, and suddenly, he, Fornell and Ziva were all firing in a staccato rhythm that was counterpoint to the shots being fired in their direction. There were so many bullets flying up and down the hallway, it was amazing to him the hallway was still intact, not to mention the three of them. He knew he had to replace his clip, as he had been subconsciously counting his shots, and as he flipped the spent clip out of his gun, and pushed the new one in, he heard a yelp from down the hallway, and then there was just the sound of Fornell's automatic, a loud booming reverberating off the walls and ceiling, as the people shooting at them were apparently reloading, too. Ziva began to move again, and Gibbs was about to join her when she suddenly jumped up and threw herself towards the doorway from which the shots were coming, shooting with both her primary and back up pieces simultaneously. Gibbs' could feel his heart move up to his throat at the sight, and only started breathing when she hit the floor on the other side of the doorway, and went into a roll. He knew she was unhit, if a bit bruised, and if that move didn't deserve a headslap, nothing ever had before.

Liz had been standing in the kitchen, listening to the sound of gunfight coming from the hall, trying to decide what to do. She knew Fornell had told her to stay put and guard the two people in the kitchen, but they were unconscious, and it sounded as if her team needed her. The incident with the female hostile had made her look bad to the other agents, and she felt the need to redeem herself by offering back-up. Decision made, Liz edged her way out into the hallway, moving as quietly as possible. She had just gotten out there when Ziva took her rolling dive to the other side of the doorway, and Gibbs and Fornell had edged closer to the other side of the door. As Liz stood behind them, she saw Gibbs signal to Ziva, indicating that he would go in high and she was to go in low. As she watched, she saw the Mossad agent nod her understanding, and as one, they moved through the door, with Fornell moving forward to offer back-up.

Once they were in the room, Gibbs and Ziva saw two men, sprawled on the ground, both bleeding from multiple bullet wounds, one clutching a riffle against his chest, which was aimed towards the door, and the other holding a semi-automatic in his hand. Ziva moved forward and kicked the automatic out of Garrison's hand, while Gibbs moved towards White. Fornell was just about to step all the way into the room, when he heard a sound behind him. Spinning around, gun aimed forward, he had barely stopped himself from pulling the trigger, when he saw Templeton looked at him with wide eyes. As this had been going on, Gibbs had kicked at White's hand to dislodge the rifle. Unfortunately, when Gibbs kicked White's gun away, his finger had reflexively tightened on the trigger, and a shot went wild, hitting Fornell in the arm. Gibbs heard Tobias grunt when he was hit, and moved immediately towards him to see how badly he was hurt, while Ziva stood with her gun trained on the two downed men.

When he got over to where Fornell was leaning against the doorframe, clutching his arm he saw Templeton standing in the hall. He exploded, immediately knowing that Templeton's approach was what had distracted Fornell, allowing for him to get shot. "What in the hell are you doing here?" he demanded. "Fornell ordered you to stay in the kitchen, guarding Barker and the woman. Haven't you done enough already? Get your ass back to the kitchen, Agent Templeton, and don't move until I say you can. Do you read me?!?" he roared. As Templeton managed to stutter out a quiet, "Yes Sir," he looked at Fornell, who had visibly paled. "Tobias, how bad are you hit?" he asked.

"Not bad, not much more than a graze," Fornell assured him, although the amount of blood seeping out around and between his fingers suggested otherwise. Before Gibbs could even answer him, Fornell began to slide down the doorframe, until he was sitting on the floor, his back leaning against the frame that was the only thing holding him up. Gibbs knew he didn't have any choice but to leave him there for now. While they had been moving down the hallway, he'd heard Bravo Team report that the front of the house was secure, and that they were moving upstairs. According to the plan, his team was supposed to join Bravo in clearing the upstairs, and although he wanted nothing more than to go in search of Tony, years of sticking to a mission plan prevented him from straying from the prearranged plan.

"Ziva," Gibbs called. "Come put pressure on Fornell's arm, while you keep your eye on those two." Switching on his radio, he said, "Back of the house clear. Two perps down in the back bedroom with gunshot wounds, one agent down with a shot to the arm. Two more hostiles down in the kitchen, one with a gunshot wound. I'm moving out to join Bravo Team, leaving a team member in the bedroom and another in the kitchen to guard the perps." When Ziva had taken her place beside Fornell, pressing hard on his arm, while she kept a gun trained on the unconscious men with her other hand, Gibbs began to move back down the hallway, stepping over the debris.

As he stepped into the living room, and saw Kaiser standing, holding a gun on two men who were gagged and tied, he heard Balboa's voice come over the radio. "Charlie Team reporting. Basement clear of hostiles, and we have DiNozzo." Gibbs paused, waiting for more information, and when none came, he cursed quietly. Once again, it took all of his self discipline to stop himself from abandoning the plan, and rushing to the basement, to see Tony for himself, to check on his condition, to make sure he was alive. Instead, he forced himself to move up the stairs, determined to end this quickly, so he could go to Tony.

Back at NCIS headquarters, Jenny stood in MTAC, listening in frustration to the transmissions from the mission over the speakers there, wishing they had set up a visual feed as well. Down in her lab, Abby and Courtney were doing the same thing, since Abby had tapped into the transmission as soon as the two women had gotten back there, determined not to miss out on what transpired. All three women were holding their collective breaths, wondering which agent had been hit, and wanting more information on Tony's condition. "Please don't let it have been Ziva," Abby said quietly, when she heard someone on Gibbs' team had been hit, and Courtney had reached out and pulled her into a tight hug.

"Gibbs said it was a shot to the arm, Abby, so it can't be too bad," Courtney tried to reassure her.

"Why didn't they say how Tony was doing?" Abby asked Courtney, refusing to be soothed.

"They can't tie up the radio. If he'd been dead, I'm sure they would have said something," she assured Abby.

"I wish I was there," Abby said quietly, wiping furiously at the tears that were once again forming in her eyes. It seemed as if she had lost all control over her emotions during the last couple of days, swinging erratically from euphoria to fear at the drop of a hat, and even though she understood it was due to exhaustion, she was powerless to stop the pendulum of emotions. Courtney just held her tightly, as she too worked silently to conquer her own fears and sense of guilt over her complicity in the situation that was unfolding as they listened.

Charlie Team had encountered problems entering the house. When Gibbs had given the go, Balboa had flung open the storm cellar doors, fully expecting to find a set of stairs, not at all prepared to discover the only way down was a set of wooden slats, set into the wall, forming a primitive ladder. Cursing, when he almost fell, he pulled out his flashlight and shining the light down into the dark abyss, eased himself down the ladder, with McGee leaning through the opening, his gun drawn, ready to provide cover. When Balboa's feet touched the ground, he turned away from the wall, and swept the beam of his flashlight around the room, not finding any signs of occupants. "Clear," he called up to McGee, who began to climb down, followed by Henderson and McGuire. When all four agents had their flashlights out to help illuminate the gloom, they began to realize that this was where the DVD must have been filmed. Scattered around the room were powerful work lights, affixed to stands, and Balboa followed the electrical cord on the ground, until he found the outlet. Bending down, he inserted the plug to the extension cord, and the room was suddenly ablaze in light. "Christ," Balboa said, as soon as his eyes adjusted to the change in light. They could all see the meat hooks suspended from the beams in the ceiling, with chains hanging down from them. The ground below was covered in rock, stained a deep rusty brown, and they all knew that it was Tony's blood they were seeing.

Next to the stairs that led up to kitchen on the main floor was a small hallway, with one door on the right side. The team moved to surround the door, alert to the possibility that hostiles might be inside the room. Reaching out, Balboa tried the door handle, only to discover the room was locked. Backing up as far as he could, he lifted up a leg, and gave the door a savage kick. Wood exploded, and the door swung open, as it shattered where the bolt of the lock had been engaged. Lunging into the room, Balboa was almost bowled over by the stench that greeted him, a sickening combination of blood, sweat, and urine, and although he couldn't see anything in the dark, he knew they'd found DiNozzo.

McGee fumbled along the wall next to the door, until his hand connected with a light switch, which he quickly flicked on, bathing the tiny room in a weak yellowish light, from a single overhead bulb. Across the room from them was a cot, on which Tony lay, virtually naked and motionless, although the soft sporadically stuttered gasp for air assured them that at least he was alive. One of his arms hung down at an unnatural angle, and they could see that it had been handcuffed to the leg of the bed. "Oh my God," Henderson said, swallowing back the bile that threatened to erupt when he stepped into the room and saw DiNozzo for the first time. Nothing on the DVD had prepared any of them for the reality of the situation, and they all stood there, frozen for one brief moment, as the shock of what they were seeing overpowered them. McGee was the first to snap into action, rushing over to where Tony lay. Remembering what he had promised Ziva, he pulled out his cell phone and punched in Jimmy's number. He knew Gibbs had not given the all clear for the house, but looking at Tony, and hearing how shallow his breathing was, McGee was afraid Tony didn't have a lot of time. When Jimmy answered, McGee said, "Jimmy, its McGee. I need you and Ducky to drive your truck up to the side of the house by the storm cellar doors. We've found Tony in the basement, and he needs help, right away. It's hard to get down here, so call for us when you get here, and we'll come help. Be careful, we haven't cleared the house yet. Just hurry, okay?"

Balboa had listened while McGee was speaking, and although he was supposed to be in charge of the team, he found he couldn't argue with McGee's call. It didn't sound like DiNozzo was breathing well at all, his skin was slick with sweat, indicating he was running a high fever, and he was smeared in dried blood, although some of the welts on his side seemed to still be seeping fresh blood. His entire abdomen area was covered in a vicious bruise, which was already a dark purple in color, and Balboa wondered if he had broken ribs as well. He realized that both of Tony's shoulders must be dislocated, since they were swollen and looked slightly deformed. The cot itself was covered in blood, and he shuddered to think what DiNozzo's back must look like. Turning back to face McGuire, he said, "Go cover the stairs leading up to the kitchen, in case a hostile tries to get down here. Henderson, you go wait by the cellar doors and help Dr. Mallard and his assistant down, when they arrive." When the men had gone, he looked down at McGee, who was speaking softly to DiNozzo.

"Tony, it's Tim," McGee said gently. When he got no response, he tried again, a little louder this time, "Tony, can you hear me. It's McGee." This time Tony seemed to stir some, although the slight movement of his head caused him to start coughing violently.

As he stood watching, feeling helpless, Balboa realized he hadn't given the all clear, and after turning on his radio, he said, "Charlie Team reporting. Basement clear of hostiles, and we have DiNozzo." He didn't really know what else to say. There was no way to describe the horror they'd stumbled into. "McGee," Balboa said, as he watched the younger agent try to help DiNozzo. "We need to get that cuff off his hand. Move over so I can take a crack at it." He knelt down beside McGee, pulling a lock picking kit out of his back pocket. While Balboa worked on the handcuff, McGee frantically continued to try and rouse Tony, not knowing whether Tony was in a coma, or merely unconscious.

Tony's coughing was abating slightly, but his breath was coming out in alarmingly loud wheezes now, and it was clear he wasn't getting enough air. Suddenly Tony's eyes cracked open, and he looked around in a daze. McGee took a deep breath in relief.

"Tony, relax, its me, Tim," McGee said, when Tony struggled to sit up, yanking on his imprisoned arm, and then gasping in pain. He attempted to lift his other arm, but it refused to move, and again he cried out in pain. The sheet under Tony was stuck to his back as he rolled onto his side in an attempt to sit up in order to get away, as he looked over at the two NCIS agents kneeling before him, with glazed and uncomprehending eyes. "Tony, calm down. You're safe now. It's me, Tim," McGee tried again, as Tony swung out at them with his legs, clearly not recognizing either man. In his struggle, the sheet had ripped away from his body, breaking away the partial scabbing over his wounds, and from the position McGee was in, he could see pools of blood beginning to pour from the lacerations across his back and legs. Not knowing what else to do, McGee reached out and grabbed Tony's face, in an attempt to force him to stop struggling, but that only served to make Tony struggle more violently, as he shook his head to dislodge McGee's hands. During all this, Balboa succeeded in opening the lock, and now Tony was able to force his body upright, as he fought against his perceived attackers. The coughing began again, and Tony's struggles weakened, as he collapsed forward, fighting feebly for both air and his freedom.

McGee was still trying to subdue a wheezing, groaning and coughing Tony, when Ducky and Palmer rushed into the room, both carrying large medical bags full of supplies. "Oh dear Lord," Ducky said quietly, when he saw Tony. "My poor boy."

Hearing Ducky's voice, McGee cried, "He's delirious Ducky, and doesn't seem to know me. I can't get him to stop fighting, and I don't know where it's safe to touch him. He's covered in welts and cuts, and I don't think he can even move his arms." By now McGee's hands were slick with Tony's blood, and he was finding it even more difficult to keep Tony on the cot, as his wet hands slid across his body, but he was afraid to push Tony down by his shoulders.

Ducky hurried over to the bed, and assessed the situation. "I need him lying down, Timothy. I want to start him on IV's right away, but I'll need him to be still in order to get the lines in. You and Palmer are just going to have to hold him still."

"But where do I grab him, Ducky? His entire body is covered in wounds," McGee said desperately.

"Go ahead and grasp him by the shoulders, Tim; I don't think you can do much more damage than has already been done. Mr. Palmer, I will need you to secure his legs."

That was how Gibbs found them, when he charged into the room, mere minutes later. By the time he had gotten to the second floor, Dobbs and his two men, had already cleared all the open rooms, and were in the process of breaking the lock on the room where Galvin was imprisoned. Galvin had been overjoyed to see them, and Gibbs stayed just long enough to make sure that Galvin was okay, then told Dobbs to stay with him there, in the room, until backup arrived. Gibbs had then announced over the radio that the house was secure, and Galvin had been found alive and well, and called for backup, the FBI forensic teams, and medical assistance. Then he had turned, and rushed back down the stairs, heading for the kitchen, totally ignoring a startled Templeton as he wrenched open the door that led to the basement stairs. When he'd gotten to the bottom of the stairs McGuire gestured to the hallway, knowing Gibbs had come to see about his agent for himself. He had been horrified when he entered the room, to see McGee forcefully holding a struggling and wheezing Tony down, with Jimmy Palmer sitting on his weakly kicking legs, and Ducky kneeling on the floor beside them, saying loudly, "Tony, you must stop this immediately."

"What in the fuck is going on here?" Gibbs demanded.

"He's fighting us Jethro, and he's going to do himself more damage. He doesn't seem to know who we are, and I can't help him if he doesn't lie still. Speak to him, maybe he'll respond to you," Ducky said urgently.

"Tony," Gibbs said, as he moved to stand next to where Ducky knelt. When Tony didn't seem to register him at all, Gibbs knew that words weren't going to do it. Leaning over, he reached out and smacked Tony on the top of his head, none too gently, as he called out, "DiNozzo, cut it out." Behind him, Balboa and his team, who had drifted back into the room, gasped in shock, although McGee, Ducky and Palmer didn't seem the least bit concerned.

Balboa and his people were even more amazed when Tony stilled, and managed to say in a hoarse, barely audible voice, "Boss?"

"Yeah, Tony, it's me. Now stop fighting and let Ducky help you," Gibbs said, as relief washed over him, and he released the breath he'd been holding. At least Tony was able to speak, although Gibbs couldn't understand how that was possible, giving the extent of his injuries.

Tony's head rotated to the side, and through the narrow slits of his eyes, he seemed to see Ducky for the first time. "Hey Ducky, when did you get here?" he croaked out. Before Ducky could even respond something else seemed to occur to Tony, and he struggled once again to try and sit up. "Liz…. alright?" he asked desperately between coughs. "Is Liz okay?" he managed to wheeze out, before the coughing started up again in full force.

Gibbs looked down at Tony, absolutely stunned. There was Tony, desperately gasping for air, fighting for his life, and all he could think about was the safety of his partner; while Liz, who had merely been hit with a stun gun, couldn't be bothered to show any concern for Tony's well being. "She's fine," he growled. Then, more gently he pleaded, "Just try and lie still now, Tony, so Ducky can fix you up."

With Palmer's help, Ducky was able to get Tony to lie back down, and he quickly pulled out the equipment needed to start an IV line in Tony's arm, so he could get fluids and the antibiotics Dr. Pitt had sent over from Bethesda going. "We need the paramedics, now, Jethro," he said tersely, once the line was established. "Can they land the Medivac anywhere near the house?" he asked. "The sooner we get him to Bethesda, the better his chances," he said, as he looked at Tony, who had once again slipped into unconsciousness.

Gibbs turned on his radio and said, "We need a team of paramedics down in the basement, ASAP, and then the Life Flight helicopter. There's room for it to land in the front of the house." Looking over at McGee, he said, "Fornell got shot in the arm, and Ziva's with him. They're in the bedroom off of the kitchen. Go see how he's doing, McGee. We'll send him to Bethesda with Tony."

"What about the other wounded?" McGee asked, before he headed up.

"All hostiles," Gibbs grunted. "They can take their chances with the local hospital. I don't give a damn if they all die," he said vehemently, as he looked back down at Tony's wrecked body, and listened to him struggling to breath.

Ducky looked over at Balboa and his team. Realizing Gibbs wasn't able to focus on anything but Tony, Ducky said, "Perhaps it would be best if you gentlemen go and see if you can be of any assistance upstairs. There isn't much more that can be done for Tony right now."

When only Ducky and Palmer remained, Gibbs couldn't contain his worry any longer, and in a tight voice, laced with far more than the normal amount of concern a team leader would show for a fallen comrade, he managed to say, "Tell me everything that's wrong with him, Ducky."

Ducky stood and gently grasped Gibbs' arm, then moved them both away from Tony. Even though Tony was unconscious, Ducky didn't want to risk him waking up while they were having this discussion, and inadvertently overhearing something that would only serve to worry him. Once Ducky felt they were safely out of earshot, he said quietly, "It's pretty much as both Jimmy and I told you before, after we'd seen the DVD. Both of his shoulders are most definitely dislocated, and besides being very painful, there may have been damage to the muscles, tendons, and blood vessels around the area. We won't know about that until we can get him to the hospital and they have x-rayed the area. His feet are ripped to shreds, and it will be days before he can step on them without experiencing a great deal of pain. I'm sure you can tell that he has clearly developed bronchitis. Whether it has progressed to full blown pneumonia will once again have to wait, since an x-ray will be needed for that diagnosis. Several of the wounds on his back are infected, and have started to fester. I can't be sure of the magnitude of the infection, although his temperature is 102, but again, I can't be sure if that is a result of the infection or pneumonia. The bruise on his abdomen is worrisome, but I can't tell whether he has broken ribs, or any internal bleeding. Yet again, only x-rays will tell us that."

"So what in the hell can you tell me?" Gibbs snapped in frustration, not really mad at Ducky, but needing desperately to release a small bit of the anger that consumed him.

Ducky didn't take any offense; he was actually impressed that Gibbs hadn't resorted to physical violence as a way of dealing with his anger and fear. "What I can tell you, Jethro, is that Tony is very ill. I don't think he will die, but I cannot promise you that, since a less strong willed person would most likely already be dead. Fortunately, Tony never does the expected, and he's almost as stubborn as you, so that will work in his favor. If he does survive, it will take him weeks to recover, however, and it is far too soon to even speculate about whether there will be permanent damage. At the very least, I think it is safe to say he will always have some scars from the deepest of the lacerations caused by the whip."

Gibbs wanted to scream at the top of his lungs, to punch his fists into a wall, to take out his gun and shoot every one of the perps upstairs, but knew he couldn't. Instead he had to settle for going back over to Tony, taking one of his limp hands in his own, and murmuring assurances as he waited for the paramedics to get there.


	23. Chapter 23

"**A Friend in Need" – Chapter Twenty-Three**

When McGee got up the stairs, he discovered the house was abuzz with activity. There were State Police, NCIS agents, medics, and FBI forensic people everywhere. Templeton was still in the kitchen, as ordered, although she had been joined by one of Dobbs' people and two State cops, who were all watching as paramedics treated Barker and Marshall. Hurrying past them, he headed for the hallway that would lead him to Fornell and Ziva.

Two paramedics were treating Fornell when McGee made it to the back bedroom. They had an oxygen mask on his face, he was lying stretched out on a gurney, but McGee couldn't tell if he was conscious or not. They were in the process of trying to stop the bleeding when McGee entered the room, and said, "A helicopter from Bethesda will be landing in the front yard in a few minutes. He needs to be loaded aboard it, since he's a federal agent." The paramedics nodded their understanding, throwing a cautious glance over at Ziva. McGee walked over to Ziva, who was watching the proceedings with one eye, while her other kept guard over the two unconscious men at her feet. "What about them?" McGee asked.

"I would not let the paramedics look at them until they had stabilized Fornell," she told him in a cold voice.

'Well, that explains why the paramedics look so jumpy,' Tim thought to himself, imagining the scene that must have occurred when the paramedics had tried to deal with the hostiles before Fornell. He just hoped that Ziva hadn't pulled her gun on them, although he doubted if either Gibbs or Director Shepard would object to strenuously.

"How is Tony?" Ziva asked as she studied McGee. She had become alarmed the minute she had seen him, taking in the blood that stained his hands and clothes, as well as how pale he had become. There had been no mention over the radio of any other agent being injured, so she knew the blood had to be Tony's.

"Not good," McGee answered, looking at the ground as he debated how much to tell her. "He didn't know who we were when we first found him. He fought us, and it wasn't until Gibbs got there that he started to settle down."

"And his injuries?" Ziva pushed, needing to hear it all, even if the news was bad, and worried because McGee would not meet her eyes.

Ziva noted a marked hesitation before he answered her question, and her nerves were stretched thin as she waited. "He's a mess, Ziva," McGee said softly, after deciding there was no point in trying to shield her. She would see it all for herself soon enough. Raising his head so he could look at her, he said, "He was lying on a cot, covered in his own blood, his shoulders are all lumpy, and he could barely get any air. He's running a high fever and his neck, back and legs are covered in bruises, welts and cuts. He can't use his arms, Ducky says his shoulders are both dislocated, and he just looks like hell! If he hadn't been gasping for air, I would have thought he was dead when we first found him. The bastards had him handcuffed to the leg of the cot; even with his arms so messed up he can't lift them. When Gibbs sent me up here, Ducky had just gotten an IV line in his arm, and they were waiting for the Bethesda paramedics." Tim shook his head, unable to continue, needing to push the image of Tony away, if only for a brief moment. Changing the subject, he asked, "What about Fornell? What kind of shape is he in?"

Ziva seemed to sense his need for distraction, and didn't push for more information. "Gun shot to the arm. I believe the bullet is still in there, and he's lost a great deal of blood. Perhaps it nicked an artery." With a small smile, she told McGee, "When he realized it was more than a graze, and that he would need to go to the hospital, he insisted I dig his cell phone out of his jacket pocket for him. Somehow he managed to call his Asst. Director Marshall to report in, tell him he'd been injured, and that Marshall would need to have a helicopter bring him out here, so he could take over the scene, and deal with the press. Ever the politician. I do not think I would make a good FBI agent. After he got that done, I think he ran out of oil, and he has said very little since."

"Gas, ran out of gas," McGee corrected her with a small grateful smile, glad for the normalcy correcting Ziva's English provided him.

"Gas, oil, they both make things run, do they not?" Ziva defended herself with a shrug.

"Not quite. You see oil is really…...you know what? It really doesn't matter," McGee told her, and suspected he'd just been played, when he saw a little smile ghost across her lips.

They were interrupted by two State Policemen and an FBI agent who stepped into the room. The FBI agent leaned down beside Fornell, and was quietly talking to the paramedics. One of the State cops came over to them, and after being momentarily stunned by McGee's appearance, he found his voice and said, "Sir, Ma'am, I'm Sgt. Adams. I was sent in to relieve you, and help Agent Fredricks collect forensic evidence." Looking first at McGee, and then down at White and Garrison, he asked, "Should I radio for more medics?"

"If you like," Ziva said, and the cop felt a shiver run down his spine when she added in a cold, dispassionate voice, "Although I think it may be too late for that one." She pointed to White. "We will be in the basement, seeing to one of our own who was wounded. Call if you need us," she added, as she and McGee began to move towards the door, pausing to allow the paramedics to push the gurney carrying Fornell out into the hallway ahead of them.

Before they had gotten out of the room, the FBI forensics man, who had just collected Fornell's weapon, called out to them. "Excuse me, but were either of you involved in these shootings?" he asked, pointing to White and Garrison.

"I was," Ziva answered, somewhat belligerently, as if she thought he was about to criticize her for it. "They are both hostiles."

"I realize that Ma'am," the forensics specialist said, "but I'm going to need your weapon for comparison. I'll make sure you get it back as soon as possible." He pulled out a plastic bag and patiently waited for Ziva to produce her gun. He seemed a little surprised, when after handing him her side arm, Ziva reached down, and pulled out another gun from the top of her boot. He was still scrambling for another bag, when she reached out to give him her secondary gun.

"I used both of them," she informed him. "I have no idea whether I succeeding in hitting them with one or both." After he had bagged both weapons, she gave him her name and badge number. He was still offering assurances of the return of her weapons as Ziva and McGee left the room.

As they moved back towards the kitchen, Ziva asked McGee, "Has Abby called you yet?"

"No, and I don't know what I'm going to say to her when she does. I've actually thought about not answering the phone when she calls," he confessed.

"That will only delay the inevitable," Ziva pointed out, although privately she understood the impulse.

McGee reached out and grasped her arm, making her stop for a second, while he tried to explain. "She's going to ask about Tony, and she'll want to hear that he's going to be okay. I don't think I can say that, Ziva. He sounded like he did when he had the plague. He's in worse shape than I've ever seen him, and Ducky didn't even try to do anything about the lacerations all over his body, and I don't understand why. He'd ripped most of them open again as he struggled with us, and yet Ducky just ignored them."

Ziva brought her other hand up to cover Tim's hand that was clutching at her arm. "There was probably little he could do about that right then, Tim. If they had been life threatening, Ducky would have addressed them. Getting fluids and medicine into Tony was probably much more important," she said, and gave his hand a gentle squeeze before she removed hers. "You must be honest with Abby, though. She will find out eventually, anyway. She is a grown woman, Tim, and you will not be doing her a favor by hiding the truth from her. Come, we must go be there for both Tony and Gibbs now," she said, when McGee let go of her arm, and together they continued down the hallway.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Down in Abby's lab, she and Courtney were having an argument. When Abby had heard that the house was secure, she had immediately wanted to call either Gibbs or McGee for an update on Tony's condition, and to find out what agent had been injured, but Courtney, as much as she too wanted that information, had stopped her. "They're going to be busy securing all the prisoners," Courtney had told her. "I'm sure someone will call you as soon as they have time." Abby hadn't been happy, but she'd known that Courtney was right, so had contented herself with continuing to listen to any chatter that came over the radio. When she'd heard Gibbs' voice, demanding that paramedics be sent to the basement, and that the helicopter from Bethesda be flown in, she had become justifiably alarmed. Because of Balboa's earlier transmission, they were both acutely aware of the fact that Tony was in the basement, and the argument had resumed, with Abby insisting she needed to call McGee. Abby was becoming more and more irrational, and Courtney didn't understand what she meant when Abby kept repeating that she should have been there for him, because he'd been there for her, but thought it better not to pursue that subject right then.

Jenny walked into the lab just in time to hear Courtney say to the weeping Goth, "If Tony is really badly hurt, they don't have time to talk on the phone right now." That was all the confirmation Jenny needed, her impulse had been right. The minute she'd heard Gibbs call for paramedics, she'd told the techs in MTAC that she needed to step out for a few minutes, and that she'd be available via cell. She was sure that by now Abby would have tapped into the feed between NCIS and the Calverton operation, and was probably climbing the walls. Afraid that Abby might have done something even more rash, she'd felt it advisable to go down and check on the forensic specialist herself, before she discovered via the transmission, that Abby had driven herself out to the scene.

"Abby," Jenny said, in her firmest voice. "You need to get a hold of yourself." She didn't like to be stern with someone who was clearly distressed, but knew it was the only way to get Abby to snap out of her hysterics. What she hadn't been prepared for was Abby, launching herself at her, while she encircled Jenny with her arms. Jenny had seen this happen before, with either Tony or Gibbs on the receiving end, but had never expected to find herself with an arm full of weeping Goth scientist. Not knowing what else to do, she wrapped her own arms around Abby, and looked over at Agent Kreiger with a rather wild look, hoping that maybe the FBI agent would help her out. When Kreiger took a step backwards, rather than forwards, and held her hands up in mock surrender, she knew she was on her own. 'So much for interagency cooperation,' she told herself wryly, as she awkwardly patted Abby on the back.

"Did you hear?" Abby asked in a muffled voice. "Gibbs called for paramedics and a helicopter."

"Abby, you knew Tony was injured. This doesn't mean anything new has happened. Of course Gibbs is going to want paramedics to treat him," Jenny tried to reason with Abby, wishing she could see her face, although that was impossible since Abby's face was presently smashed against her shoulder.

"But Ducky and Jimmy are there," Abby wailed insistently.

"Abby, you're not thinking clearly. I'm sure Ducky was treating Tony, but they need to get him to a hospital, where they can really help him. Ducky's good, but there's only so much you can do for someone when you're out in the field," Jenny said reasonably. When Abby didn't answer, she tried again. "Abby, look at me," she ordered, and waited until Abby had lifted her head and met her eyes before she continued. "Why don't you shut things done here for the day? I can tell you aren't going to get any more work done, anyway. I'll go back up to MTAC, and when I hear that the helicopter has taken off, I'll call you. Then you can have AGENT KREIGER drive you over to Bethesda, and wait for them there. Did you hear me? I said, Agent Kreiger should drive." The last thing Jenny wanted was to allow a distraught Abby to take the wheel on the streets of D.C., but she also knew Abby wouldn't really settle down until she's seen Tony for herself. Even with one arm in a sling, Jenny felt that Kreiger was the safer bet behind a wheel.

Jenny certainly understood Abby's concern. She'd take herself to Bethesda, too, if she could, but someone had to stay here and coordinate NCIS's part in the clean up of the operation, and as always, that task was going to fall to her. She had no doubt that Gibbs would be in a car, headed for Bethesda at breakneck speed, the minute Tony was in the air, and the agents left behind would need her to provide them with guidance.

Abby hiccupped, as she tried to stop the tears. Squeezing Jenny tightly again, in a bone popping hug, she managed to say, "Thank you so much. I promise I'll come back and get to work the minute I know how Tony's doing."

"Don't make promises you might not be able to keep, Abby. Let's see how Tony is, and then we can decide what to do. You're not doing anything here that can't wait a day, not now that we have the kidnappers. They aren't going anywhere any time soon, so your searches will keep for a bit. We'll need that information eventually, but no one's going to do anything with it today," Jenny told her, her voice gentling now that Abby was more rational. "You can do something for me, though. You can call me and let me know how Tony is the minute you know. I'm afraid Gibbs may be too preoccupied, and I'm worried about Tony, too."

Abby gave Jenny one more quick hug, released her, and after snapping off a saucy salute, said, "You got it, Bosslady. Don't worry about us. You go back to MTAC and make sure they get every last one of those sleazebags."

Jenny smiled, amused as always at Abby's mercurial temperament; she'd just switched in the bat of an eye from a sniffling bundle of emotions into a competent, professional – well, as professional as Abby ever got – forensics specialist. "I'll call you as soon as the helicopter takes off from Virginia," she promised Abby again, as she turned and started back for MTAC, realizing as she went, that for some inexplicable reason, she felt slightly better.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Ziva and McGee were waylaid several times on their way to the basement, by both NCIS agents, and FBI forensics people, all wanting an update on Tony's condition. They both gave vague answers to the questions, saying he was receiving the best care that could be provided for him here, and that he would soon be airlifted to Bethesda, neither wanting to waste time by going into any detail. By the time they got down the stairs, Tony had already been transferred to a gurney, wheeled out of the cramped little room into the main section of the basement, and the Bethesda paramedics were in the process of taking his vitals. McGee saw that while he'd been gone, another IV line had been established, and there were three bags of liquid dangling from the guard rail of the gurney. An oxygen mask had been placed over Tony's face, and his body was mercifully covered by a white cotton sheet that had been pulled up to his neck, although a little blood was already beginning to seep through.

Gibbs stood beside the gurney, looking more lost than McGee had ever thought possible. Ziva went immediately to his side, gave his arm a gentle squeeze, and whispered something that McGee wasn't able to hear. Nothing seemed to make sense to McGee anymore, and, not knowing what to do, he moved over next to Ziva, and stood awkwardly by, trying to take in all the details of the scene. He knew Abby would eventually want a blow by blow description of every detail of what had occurred in the basement, and he had to be ready to answer her questions.

Ducky was speaking to someone on the paramedics' radio, and McGee could only assume it was probably Dr. Pitt, back at Bethesda. He was discussing the trouble Tony was having breathing, and talking about the congestion he'd heard when he listened to Tony's lungs. "No, I agree," Ducky said, "I'm hesitant to give him anything for pain as well, since it will only serve to further depress his respiratory system. Fortunately he's unconscious again, so it isn't an issue at the moment. If we're lucky, we won't need to make that call until after he's at Bethesda, and you're there to deal with the ramifications," Ducky paused then, listening to what the other person was saying. "I'm not sure, let me ask," he said. Looking over at one of the paramedics, Ducky inquired, "Dr. Pitt wants to know if there's room for me to accompany Agent DiNozzo on the flight back to Bethesda."

"I'm sorry Sir," the paramedic said. "We're taking another agent back with us as well, and that's already more than we're equipped to transport. We're not even sure how we're going to fit him in, yet. Tell Dr. Pitt that I'll get on the radio with him the minute we're in the air, and I can keep him updated the whole way to Bethesda."

Ducky nodded his understanding. Life flight helicopters were usually equipped with everything one would expect to find on an ambulance, and more, although there wasn't nearly as much space. He suspected that his presence would hamper, rather than help, if anything happened along the way, and the paramedics needed to get to their equipment in a hurry. They would monitor Tony's heart, breathing and other vitals all through the flight, and perhaps try to address some of the bleeding from the lacerations. As long as nothing changed, there would be little reason for him to be there. He relayed that information to Brad, and after saying farewell, handed the radio back to the paramedic.

While all this was going on, McGee noticed that a forensics team was already beginning to process the basement. Detailed pictures were being taken of the area where Tony had been tortured, and another FBI agent was over by the ladder leading up to the storm doors, bagging and tagging a pile of clothing that lay on the ground. As McGee watched, he realized they were Tony's clothes, and he walked over to the agent and said, "Those are Tony's clothes. I know you need them for evidence, but do you think it would be alright if I took his badge? I think he'd feel better, knowing it was waiting for him when he gets well."

The forensics woman looked at him, and then over at the gurney, and said in a sympathetic voice, "No problem." Sliding her hand into the bag that contained his pants and belt, she unclipped the badge from the holder affixed to the belt, she handed it to McGee. "We all hope he gets better real soon," she said sincerely.

McGee didn't really know what to say to that, so he simply thanked her and slid the badge into his pants pocket. When he turned around, he saw that they were starting to lift the gurney bearing Tony up the stairs, and that Ducky, Gibbs, Palmer and Ziva were preparing to follow it. Hurrying over, he fell into step behind Ziva, who was standing at the foot of the stairs, having watched him talk with the FBI forensics woman. "That was a very considerate thing you just did, Tim. Tony will appreciate it," Ziva told him, as they waited for the gurney to clear the door before they follow.

McGee was slightly embarrassed that she had seen him ask for Tony's badge, since it had been a little superstitious and a lot sentimental. He wasn't even sure why he'd done it, so he mumbled, "Yeah, well, Tony's lost a lot of badges over the years. Think the boss'll kill him if he loses another one." Ziva didn't buy that explanation for an instant, but rather than call him on it, she just gave him a quick smile and patted him on the shoulder. Tim found himself thinking that the world had certainly become a crazy place, when Ziva was the one dispensing comfort and reassurances.

When they got out into the front yard, there were two helicopters on the lawn. One was the Life Flight chopper from Bethesda, and the other was a black one, with FBI written in large white letters on its side. There was a gurney over by the medical helicopter, and Asst. Director Marshall was standing beside it, talking to Fornell, who was lying on the gurney. A paramedic stood beside the gurney, obviously waiting for the Bethesda team to arrive with Tony. As they cleared the door to the house, all heads turned to watch as Tony was wheeled towards them, with the small throng of people following behind. Marshall said something to Fornell, and then moved towards them. "Gibbs, how's DiNozzo?" he asked as he approached.

"Alive," was Gibbs' terse response, as he watched the paramedics began to make preparations to lift Tony's gurney up onto the helicopter. Marshall followed Gibbs' gaze, realizing the man wasn't really paying any attention to him.

"Are you planning on staying here while the scene is processed?" Marshall asked him. When Gibbs didn't look in his direction or even answer him, he tried again, speaking louder this time.

"Gibbs," he said, waiting until he saw the NCIS agent look at him before he continued. "Why don't you let us wrap things up here? We've got plenty of personnel here, and you can leave some of your people here as well. You need to go look after your agent." Then he had another idea. "I'm going to be here for several hours. If you'd like, I can have my pilot fly you and your team to Bethesda, so you'll be there when DiNozzo lands. He'd just be sitting around here doing nothing, waiting for me to get done, so he may as well stay busy."

Gibbs looked at him in surprise. "We'd appreciate that," he answered.

"We'll all be praying for him," Marshall told him.

"Thank you," Gibbs said, and held out his hand. After they had shaken, Gibbs switched on his radio, as he walked back over to where his team and Ducky and Palmer stood. "Balboa," he said, "I need you out in front of the house." Then, while he waited for Balboa to arrive, he looked at his people and said, "Director Marshall is lending us his chopper so we can get to Bethesda quicker. Palmer, you're going to have to drive the truck back into town, then you can meet us at Bethesda."

"What about the wrap up?" McGee asked.

"I'm putting Balboa on it," Gibbs told him. "Not that much left for us to do here anymore, anyway. We got what we came for."

They fell silent again, watching as Tony's gurney disappeared into the helicopter, and Fornell's was rolled closer. By the time Fornell was being lifted in, Balboa had arrived.

"Go on and get in, I'll be right there," Gibbs told Ducky, Ziva and McGee. Then turning to Balboa, he said, "We're going to Bethesda, to be there for DiNozzo. I'm leaving you in charge of NCIS's efforts in the clean up here. If you have any questions, or run into any problems, you can call me or Director Shepard." Then he pulled his car keys out, and handed them to Balboa. "The FBI's lending us a chopper. Make sure my car gets taken back to the yard?"

"Yeah, no problem, Gibbs," Balboa told him. "I'll call later to check on Tony, and let you know what all went down here."

Gibbs just nodded, and then he went to join his people.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

The FBI helicopter actually arrived before the Life Flight chopper, dropping off Ducky, Gibbs and what remained of his team onto the roof of Bethesda, and quickly taking back off, to make it easier for the helicopter carrying Tony and Fornell to land. Gibbs wasn't surprised they'd gotten there first. The helicopter Marshall had lent them was state of the art, and was capable of flying much faster than the one from Bethesda. Medical personnel, including Brad Pitt, were already on the roof, so even though Gibbs couldn't see Tony's chopper, he knew it had to be close. Ziva and McGee moved over by the stairs to be out of the way, while Ducky and Gibbs hurried over to talk with Dr. Pitt.

"Ducky, Gibbs, I wish I could say its good to see you, but that seems rather inappropriate, given the circumstances," Brad greeted them by saying. "The chopper's still about four minutes out. Why don't you go on down to the waiting room on the Trauma floor? Things are going to move quickly up here, and you won't get to see him anyway. I'll come brief you as soon as I have a better picture of how he is, and what's going to happen. There are already at least four FBI people there already. Guess bad news travels fast."

"Have you heard from the paramedics?" Gibbs asked Brad.

"Several times during the flight," Pitt told him. "Tony's holding his own, there haven't been any new developments, which is the best anyone could ask for at the moment, and Agent Fornell is awake and alert. Go on Gibbs; go get a cup of coffee. Bet it's been a while since you caffeinated yourself. There isn't anything you can do up here, and I promise, I'll let you now what's going on, as soon as I can."

Ducky touched Gibbs' shoulder, "He's right Jethro. We need to get out of the way and let Brad and his people do their jobs. Come along now, you know he'll come find us if there's anything we can do to help. I think the suggestion of coffee was a very good one. I know I could do with a cup of tea. Do you know, once, while I was in Her Majesty's employ, I had to go for over four days without ...." Brad smiled, as he watched them move away, Ducky still engaged in a one-way monologue as he steered Gibbs across the roof and over to the stairwell that led to the hospital proper.

The waiting room was indeed full by time they got to it. Morgan, who must have wrapped up whatever had kept him from participating in the day's operation, was there, quietly conversing with AD Chris Webb, who was apparently the Director of the FBI's representative that day. There were four other younger agents as well, a couple of whom Gibbs vaguely recognized, from his visits to the waiting room up in the ICU earlier this week, when he'd been checking on Langer. 'Guess they just moved back down the stairs when the news came in,' he thought bitterly, as he mindlessly shook the hand Webb had offered him, and tried to focus on what was being said to him.

Everyone was talking in the quiet voices one tends to use in hospitals and at funeral homes, steadfastly trying to avoid expressing their worries and fears, when the low hum of the room was disrupted by a high pitched, very loud, "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," and the sound of clomping, as 130 pounds of black leather and chain clad, booted, pigtailed, hysterical Goth forensic scientist burst into the room, followed by a silent, and much more sedate Courtney Kreiger, who moved quietly over to be by Ziva. All eyes in the room immediately riveted to the door. "Giiiibbbbs!!" Abby cried, when she saw him standing in the room, and Gibbs braced himself for what he knew was coming. Sure enough, in mere seconds, Abby had wrapped herself around him, attaching herself like a leech, and Gibbs let himself return her hug, drawing comfort from her presence, as he pressed his cheek against her hair.

Morgan had met Abby on numerous occasions, so he wasn't fazed by the scene unfolding before his eyes, but Webb and the other FBI agents weren't as well prepared. None of them had any idea who Abby was, and they certainly had never expected to see the universally respected and feared Agent Gibbs tenderly hold anyone, let alone a woman who looked like she had just stepped out of a MTV video for some punk rock band. As they watched in stunned disbelief, Agent Primus noticed that Morgan didn't seem the least bit surprised by the vision before them. He moved closer and whispered, "Is that Gibbs' daughter?" That seemed to be the only scenario that could possibly explain what he was seeing, although he wasn't sure how Gibbs would have allowed a child of his to dress that way.

Laughing out loud at the idea, Morgan said, "No, that's Abby Scuito, NCIS's top forensic scientist."

"What?" Primus said, unable to comprehend Morgan's statement.

"Abby Scuito, she works for Gibbs," Morgan tried to explain again. "They're close," he said needlessly, since that was blatantly obvious. "I think she'd DiNozzo's best friend," he added.

Abby and Gibbs just stood there, locked in each other's embrace, and after observing for a few seconds, the FBI agents looked away, as it seemed almost too personal to watch. That was when they noticed who had accompanied Abby into the room. "Courtney!" Bob Sanders, one of the young agents exclaimed, when he registered her presence. "I thought you were missing! What are you doing here, and what's going on?" he said, although he was smiling, relieved to see her. They'd gone through the academy together, and he'd always liked Courtney. They had even dated a few times, although they'd both agreed they made better friends than lovers. He hurried over to greet her as she stood next to Ziva across the room from him. His outburst drew the attention of the others in the room, and they all turned to look at Kreiger in amazement.

"Kreiger, are you okay?" Primus asked, as he too moved over to Courtney.

"I'm fine," Courtney assured both men. "NCIS has been hiding me since Friday. I got away from the kidnappers during the attack at the safe house and called Ziva," she said, gesturing towards Ziva, in case the others didn't know who she was referring to, "who took me to Gibbs. I had a minor gunshot wound, that Dr. Mallard tended, but it was decided it would be safer for me to keep my head down for a few days."

Webb, who had been listening to Courtney's explanation, frowned and turned to Morgan. "Did you know about this?" he demanded, not liking the idea that NCIS had been sheltering a Bureau agent, and he had known nothing about it.

"Yes Sir," Morgan admitted. "Agent Fornell and the Director are the ones that worked this out with NCIS and Director Shepard, since it looked as if the leak was coming from within our own agency. No one wanted to take the chance that they would take another crack at killing Kreiger, and it seemed like the most sensible plan. I was sworn to secrecy, as were the NCIS people who were in the loop. Considering what happened to DiNozzo, and what we learned about DeAngelo, it was probably a good idea," he added.

Webb grunted in acknowledgment of the point Morgan had just made. He didn't like the fact that no one had bothered to read him in, but knew the agent's assessment had been right. The whole clusterfuck with DeAngelo was a political and public relations nightmare, and both the FBI and D.C. Metro were going to have egg all over their faces when the media got wind of it. Truth be told, he was actually glad it was Marshall, and not himself, who was out in Calverton, having to deal with the press.

Courtney had just been brought up to date on Langer's and Merit's conditions, which had actually been steadily improving over the last two days. Merit had been moved out of ICU the day before, and the doctor had assured them that Langer would also be on a regular ward in a day or so, as long as he continued to progress at the same rate he had been healing. When Courtney thought about the severity of their injuries, and AD Glenn's death, not to mention Tony's injuries and Special Agent Fornell's she'd paled and become very quiet; her eyes filling with unshed tears. Gibbs, with Abby still wrapped in his arms, saw the guilt on her face, and remembered the little scene he'd witnessed between her and Ziva in Abby's lab that morning. 'God, has it only been a few hours since this whole thing began?' he thought to himself. Having Abby there, and knowing that Tony was finally getting help, had finally allowed him to relax his hypervigilance. He was going to need coffee soon, or he's land on his ass.

Gently untangling himself from Abby, he reached over and lightly swatted the back of Courtney's head, saying firmly, "Knock if off Kreiger! You didn't do anything wrong. Ziva already told you none of this is your fault, and as soon as Tony's better, he'll tell you the same damn thing. He was doing his job, and he got hurt. So were Langer and Merit and Fornell. It happens. We got Tony back, and the docs are gonna fix him and Fornell up, just like they did for Vic and Brent. You gave us the first break on how to find the dirtbags, and you've been helping Abby today. Ziva and Fornell think you're gonna be a good agent, and so do I. You just need to keep doing your damn job, and remember that it isn't all about you."

There was silence in the room when Gibbs stopped talking, everyone was stunned. Courtney mutely nodded her assent, and Abby broke some of the tension, when she pulled Courtney into a hug and exclaimed, "Bossman doesn't lie, Courtney, and calling somebody a 'good agent' is the best compliment in the world, coming from him. Listen to him, and listen to Ziva. None of this is on you, it's on those creeps, and now we got our Tony back, it'll all be ok, promise." Courtney nodded, and hugged Abby back. Ziva, who had been watching all this unfold, reached out and put her hand on Courtney's back, which was as much affection as she was willing to display in public. Abby finally released Courtney, and gave her friends a good look for the first time since she'd arrived. When her gaze turned to McGee, she gasped and said, "Oh my god, Timmy! Are you hurt, too?"

McGee looked at her, shocked, not comprehending what had made her say that, until he looked down at his hands and arms, finally realizing he was covered in Tony's blood. "It's not my blood," he told her, leaving unsaid whose blood it was, although everyone in the room knew. Giving Abby a quick kiss on the cheek, he said, "I'd better go find a Men's Room and get cleaned up as best I can. Don't worry Abs, its all going to turn out fine." Then he hurried off to find a bathroom, suddenly needing desperately to wash off the blood stains, which now seemed to burn at his skin.

Ducky had been standing off to the side, holding his own counsel while all of this had been going on. When McGee rushed from the room, he looked at Gibbs closely, noticing for the first time the huge splinters of wood that were embedded in his shoulder, arm and the back of his vest. "Jethro, were you aware that your shoulder and left arm are covered in splinters of wood? You really should have mentioned it before now, we must get that cleaned up immediately."

Gibbs looked at Ducky in surprise, and then at his arm. He'd had no idea that the wood was there. "I'll be fine," he told Ducky, "must have happened when we were in the hall," he added, as he remembered the way the doorframe and ceiling had exploded during the gunfight. Even as he said that, however, he suddenly needed to sit down, as a wave of exhaustion threatened to overcome him, practically knocking him off his feet. As the adrenaline seeped out of his body, the exhaustion was overwhelming, since he'd had no food, and no coffee for several hours. All of his reserve energy had just suddenly disappeared. His people were safe now, and Tony was getting help, and the fact that he'd barely slept since Tony had been taken, not to mention how scared he'd been and the amount of energy he'd spent organizing the operation to get Tony back, suddenly it was just too much. As he stood there looking at Ducky, he suddenly swayed, and Ziva, who'd been watching him, immediately reached out to grab him, her arm going around his waist to catch his sagging body. Primus and Sanders, who were still standing nearby, sprang in to action, reaching out to help support him, just as his legs gave out completely. Ducky went to the door and called for a gurney, and Gibbs, who was mortified by what had just happened, fought his way through the fog that had surrounded his brain, and tried to say that he was alright, but Ducky just shushed him. Looking over at Abby, who was once again crying, and Ziva who looked grim and worried, Gibbs discovered that he didn't have the energy to argue, and allowed himself to be placed on the gurney that had just been wheeled into the room. Within minutes he found himself in a treatment room, surrounding by medical personnel.


	24. Chapter 24

"**A Friend in Need" – Chapter Twenty-Four**

As Tim walked back into the waiting room, he was bowled over by a weeping Abby, who was babbling incoherently as she threw herself into his arms. After having cleaned himself up as best he could with hot water and paper towels from the Men's Room of the ER, still rather damp and shaky, he thought, 'God, I was only gone a few minutes, how could something else terrible have happened? This day is never going to end.' Mindlessly embracing her, McGee's heart immediately began pounding after he looked around and discovered that Ducky and Gibbs were no longer in the room. The only explanation he could come up with was that Tony's condition had deteriorated even further, or that, worse yet, he'd died. His eyes sought out Ziva, who seemed, for some inexplicable reason, to be moving in slow motion towards him. Looking down at Abby, he tried to focus on what she was saying, but the sudden roaring in his ears was making it hard to hear actual words, as his panic and dread battled for dominance.

Finally some of what Abby was saying started to sink in, "…….and then he just collapsed, and Ziva had to catch him. Ducky got a gurney and they rushed away with him, and we don't know what is going on. Maybe it was a heart attack! What if he dies too????" Abby was wailing, when Ziva got over to them.

"Abby, that is enough! Gibbs did not have a heart attack!" Ziva snapped, as she watched what little color McGee still had left in his face drain away. "It all just caught up with him at once," she explained to McGee calmly. "Apparently he was slightly wounded by some flying debris while we were in the gun battle in the hallway, but his anger at the, the..." she paused there and looked at Abby for help.

"Dirtbags," Abby, who was hiccupping slightly, as she tried to stop her tears, managed to supply the word for Ziva.

Nodding her head, Ziva said, "Yes, the dirtbags. His anger with the dirtbags and what they did to Tony has been sustaining him, but now everything is starting to wind down, and he's used up all of his adrenaline and caffeine," she added, as one side of her mouth turned up. "He will be fine after he rests for a little while, and perhaps has a cup of coffee. It is no small deal."

"No big deal," McGee corrected, as he hugged Abby tighter to his chest, while his heartbeat slowly began to return to normal. "I think you meant big deal. And I know that none of us are up to coping with another big deal right now."

Ziva rolled her eyes at him, then stuck out her tongue, which caused all three of them, and Courtney, who was used to Ziva's mangling of the English language, to break out in uncontrollable laughter. The rest of the people in the waiting room stared at them in confusion. Even though it may have been inappropriate, given the circumstances, the banter seemed to lighten the mood in the room to a more bearable level, and they all settled down to wait for reports on how Tony, Fornell, and now Gibbs, were doing.

While all of that was happening in the waiting room, Ducky stood in one of the examining rooms, after having had a brief, private conversation with the attending doctor. He'd explained just enough of what Gibbs had been through the last couple of days for the man to understand the condition Gibbs was in, and together they had come up with a plan. While he watched, the doctor, who was holding a hypodermic needle, was explaining to Gibbs that they would need to remove the splinters and clean the puncture sites. The doctor said that he was going to give him a shot of local anesthetic in his left shoulder to help dull the pain before the extractions began. After plunging the needle into Gibbs' arm, he said, "Now, we'll just wait a couple of minutes for the drug to take effect, and then we can start."

While he lay there, Gibbs could feel all the muscles in his body start to relax, not just those in his arm and shoulder, and before he could open his mouth and demand to know exactly what had been in that hypo, his eyes fluttered shut. "I'm sorry, Jethro," Ducky told his now sleeping friend, "but you simply had to get some rest, and I knew you wouldn't agree to that if left on your own. I'm going to take all your backup weapons for safekeeping, and then Dr. Rippenger here, is going to remove the splinters from your shoulder and arm. You'll be awake again in about three hours, and then you can have the satisfaction of expressing your outrage over being tricked." With the help of an orderly, Ducky removed the bullet proof vest Gibbs was wearing, and slid out the knives from the sheaths on his belt and left calf, and the gun from the ankle holster on his right leg. "You are almost as bad as Ziva," Ducky told his unconscious friend as he disarmed him, "so that is exactly whom I shall entrust with your arsenal."

The nurses and Dr. Rippenger watched with amusement as Ducky carried on his one way conversation with Gibbs. When the older man moved away from the table, Dr. Rippenger said, "This won't take me long. Once I've got them out, the areas cleaned, and a few dressing put in place, we'll just let him sleep. I'll come get you when it looks like he's starting to wake up. Will you still be in the waiting room?"

"Yes, I'm afraid it will take a great deal more time for the doctors to help our other agent," Ducky told him with a sad smile. "If they transfer him up to the ICU before Jethro here has awakened, I will let you know. Thank you for agreeing to assist me in ensuring he got some much needed rest. He may be very angry when he wakes up, but at least he'll have more strength. I'm afraid we're all going to need as much of that as we can find today."

"You're most welcome, Dr. Mallard," Rippenger answered. "You hang in there."

"I shall certainly endeavor to do so," Ducky answered, as he opened the door to let himself out. When he got into the central portion of the ER, he could see into the room where they were treating Tony, and he stopped for a second to observe. The room was full of people, and it was hard to tell exactly what was happening. Tony had a full oxygen mask over his face, and Ducky couldn't see whether or not he'd been intubated. Two nurses were working on pulling gravel out of the bottom of his feet, while Dr. Pitt was leaning over the top half of him, stethoscope to his chest. Another doctor seemed to be examining his hands and shoulders, and Ducky supposed she was an orthopedic specialist. A portable c-scan sat to the side of the bed, and Ducky presumed they had already used it to get x-rays of various parts of Tony's body. Monitors were keeping track of his heart rate, his oxygen levels, and various other functions, and everyone in the room seemed alert and slightly on edge, as they bustled about doing their various tasks. Knowing there was nothing he could do to help, and not wanting to get in the way, Ducky took a deep breath, and headed out to the waiting room, aware that he would be bombarded by questions the minute he appeared.

"How's Gibbs?" Abby demanded as she shot to her feet the instant she saw Ducky.

"Sleeping," Ducky answered smugly, and noticed that Ziva raised an eyebrow and looked at him questioningly. Ducky smiled over at Ziva and added, "The doctor gave him a sedative so they could remove the splinters without discomforting him. He will be awake and just fine in a few hours," he said.

"I am sure he will be most appreciative of that concern for his comfort," Ziva observed wryly.

"One can only hope," Ducky answered her with a quick smirk, since they both knew he would be furious, even if it had been done for his own good. Ducky drew out the gun and two knives that he had stashed in his jacket pockets before he'd left Gibbs' room. As he handed them to Ziva he said, "I thought it best that someone from his team watched over these for Gibbs. I don't think he'll be needing them for awhile."

"What about Tony?" Abby demanded. "Tell us what's happening with him."

"The doctors all seem to be working quite hard to help him," Ducky told her. "But I don't know what exactly they are doing for him, nor what they've discovered."

"But you were right there," Abby stated vehemently. "How can you not know?"

"Abby, his room was filled with medical personnel, all hard at work. I did not think it wise to interrupt them to request a report, nor do anything that might slow them down in giving Tony all the attention he needs. They will come tell us what is happening just as soon as they are able. When I was coming out here, I saw Dr. Pitt working on him, and he knows we'll be waiting anxiously. Give them time," Ducky advised, as he reached out to pat Abby's cheek. "You want what's best for Tony, don't you?"

"How can you even ask that?" Abby demanded indignantly. "Of course I do. I'm just worried," she admitted to Ducky, in a much smaller voice, knowing he was right.

"I know that my dear," Ducky said. "We all are. If concern could be converted into healing, Tony would be all better by now," he told her gently. "But as it is, we shall simply have to wait, and think positive thoughts." Ducky wasn't at all sure that wishing hard ever helped, how could he, considering what he did all day, every day. But he knew it gave those who waited something to do; something that at least made them feel as if their presence mattered.

Time dragged by for those in the waiting room, every minute felt like an hour, and the hours felt like weeks. The room began to fill with food and drink as both NCIS and FBI agents, who were done with work for the day, started to drop by to show solidarity, and to find out if there was any new information on how their colleagues were doing. Out of respect for the NCIS team's privacy, most chose to stay just long enough to offer a few words of support, and to make sure there was nothing they could do for anyone. A muted cheer had gone up when a surgeon had come in and announced that Fornell was out of surgery, that there had been no difficulties in removing the bullet, and that he would make a complete recovery. When they learned that he had been moved up to the fourth floor, the same one Merit was on, many of the Bureau agents had left to go up for a visit, leaving Ducky and the team alone, with Morgan, Courtney, and Webb remaining as the FBI's principle representatives. Jimmy Palmer arrived not too long after the migration upstairs, carrying coffee and Caf-Pows, along with a bag of burgers and fries. After he'd been updated, he took a seat next to the rest of his people, and they all returned to their silent wait for news, while the untouched food slowly cooled on the table next to them.

It was a little after six by the time a tired looking Dr. Pitt stepped into the waiting room to speak with Tony's team. He gazed around at the small crowd that had gathered, not recognizing the majority of people in the room. He knew they were all now looking at him with interest, and he found it disconcerting. Finally he spotted Ducky, Jimmy, Abby, McGee and Ziva, the woman who had taken Kate's place, sitting together in a tight clump, over in a far corner. "So, where's Gibbs?" were the first words out of his mouth when he got over to them. "I can't stay long. I need to get back to Tony, but thought I'd come out and give you a quick update."

"In the room across from Tony," Ducky answered, knowing Brad would have been too busy to pay attention to anything else that was going on in the ER. "He was on the brink of collapse, and needed a little medical attention himself. Dr. Rippenger and I felt it was necessary for him to sleep for a least a few hours, and took the necessary steps to ensure that happened. He should be up and moving around again in an hour or so."

"Well, you'll just have to bring him up to speed then," Brad told Ducky, not at all pleased that Tony's boss wasn't there to hear what he had to say, and knowing that Gibbs was going to be even more unhappy than he was. "We're still working on Tony, trying to stabilize him enough to get him up to the ICU. There weren't any real big surprises; your analysis of his condition at the scene was pretty accurate. The good news is, that although he does have a severe case of bronchitis, it hasn't developed into pneumonia yet, and with a little bit of luck, and a lot of precaution, I'm hoping we can avoid that development. Both of his shoulders were dislocated, and the orthopedist has already relocated them. We'll need to immobilize him so he can't redamage them. Some of the nerves and muscles around the shoulders were damaged as well, and he'll be in a great deal of pain from that when he wakes up. His wrists were both broken, probably caused by a combination of his weight, and jerking on them repeatedly, so that, coupled with the shoulders, means he won't have any use of his arms for some time. We've dressed the cuts on his wrists, and put them in air splints to hold the wrists still, but that's about all we can do to address that issue right now." Brad paused there, to let all that sink in before he continued.

"What about the bruising around his midsection?" Ducky asked. "Any broken ribs?"

"No, we lucked out there, too," Brad told him. "Three of them are cracked, but none are broken, which was a godsend. All things considered, a punctured lung would probably have killed him. His kidneys and spleen are severely bruised, but we haven't seen any evidence of internal bleeding. We'll be keeping an eye on that for the next several hours. If I had to guess, I'd say someone kicked the hell out of him."

While Brad had been speaking, Abby had been pressing up against McGee. When he mentioned Tony having been kicked, it brought back all the memories of what she and Tony had gone through together years ago. Tony had been beaten and kicked then, too, and she remembered what his recovery had been like; she'd seen the DVD and knew this was going to be much worse. Not sure if she could watch him go through it again, she crawled into McGee's lap, and buried her face in his shoulder, while he held her protectively. He and Ziva hadn't been with the team when that had happened; as a matter of fact, Tony hadn't even been NCIS at the time. He'd still been a detective with the Baltimore P.D. It was how Gibbs had met Tony, but McGee had heard the whole story from Abby once, years ago. In a fit of jealousy over their friendship and communication shorthand, he'd demanded to know if Abby had ever dated Tony. She'd told him about their captivity, and how Tony had saved them from Jeffers. When he'd heard the story, McGee had been embarrassed over his jealousy, although he'd certainly understood why Abby and Tony had grown to be so close. As he held Abby, he knew she was reliving what had happened back then. Using his hand to rub soft little circles on her back, he gently rocked her, and made soothing sounds, as he listened to Dr. Pitt continue with the description of Tony's condition.

"Many of the lacerations on his back are infected, and we've got him on antibiotics to try and counter any worsening of the infections. We may be able to suture a few of them closed, but probably won't be able to do that for the majority of them, as they have already started to scab over, so we'll be treating them with wet to dry dressings. We've just started working on his back, and it's going to take us some time to get that under control. We've already dealt with the injuries to his feet, which are going to be painful, and terribly inconvenient, but really the least of the injuries. I'm hoping we'll be able to get him up to the ICU within the next two hours," Brad told them. "I wish I had better news, but I guess it could have been worse. At least I'm pretty comfortable saying that, barring some unforeseeable complication, Tony is going to pull through. Which, all things considered, is pretty miraculous. I hope to hell you got the bastards that did this to him. I know that I'm supposed to be all about saving lives, but I'm not sure I'd lift a hand to help any one of them, even if they were lying bleeding at my feet!"

Ziva, who had sat rigidly at attention all through Brad's recitation, gave him a ferocious smile and in a blood chilling voice assured him, "Rest assured Doctor, we got them, and it was most satisfying to look at them lying bleeding at my feet." The FBI agents, who had moved closer when Dr. Pitt started talking, so that they could hear about how Tony was doing, looked first at Ziva, and then at each other, in shock. It wasn't that they didn't understand the yearning for revenge and retribution, but the innate savagery in her response stunned them.

"Yes, well," Brad managed, looking over at Ducky for guidance, as he too suddenly seemed to be at a loss for words, even though it was his own sentiments that had prompted Ziva's response.

"Thank you for briefing us," Ducky said smoothly, standing up to usher Brad back to the ER. "I know you need to get back to Tony, so we certainly don't want to keep you. Please let us know if anything changes, or if you get ready to move him," he said, as he propelled the younger man out of the room.

"Ms. David is certainly different from Kate," Brad commented softly, after they had gotten to the door.

"Yes, but she's a comfort to us all," Ducky told him with an amused grin, as Brad looked over at him in surprise.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Jenny rushed through the doors of Bethesda at 6:30. The operation at Calverton was winding down; the prisoners had all been treated, and were either in a hospital under guard, or in a holding cell over at the Hoover Building, all except for White, who had been dead at the scene. All that remained were the forensic teams, who were tearing apart the house, taking anything and everything, no matter how obscure, that might provide a clue or insight as to the criminals' activities. She knew they had found video recordings of the kidnapping victims, including one of Nussbaum, so there would be no way they could escape murder charges, for which she was very grateful. Several audio tapes had been found, although no one had time to listen to them yet, and there were reams of papers to go through. The only bad news in the whole operation was that no one had been able to locate Phelps or Cooper yet, despite the BOLOs for them, and their vehicles, and alerts at all nearby airports, bus stations, and railways. Their cell phones had already proven a dead end; Phelps' was found out at Calverton, and Cooper's in the back of a taxi driven by some poor hapless cabdriver who had freaked out when eight FBI agents had descended on him just as he had pulled to the curb to pick up a fare. Jenny had been tasked with the unenviable job of informing Gibbs about this development, or more accurately, lack of developments, since no one else wanted to be within range when he exploded after hearing the news. She didn't blame them for their hesitance. She would have much preferred to be the bearer of better news.

When she got to the waiting room, she paused a moment before fully entering, silently taking in the scene in front of her. Webb, Morgan, Kreiger and a couple of other FBI agents she didn't know were standing to one side, engaged in quiet conversation. Morgan had an arm protectively around Kreiger's shoulders, and Jenny fleetingly thought again that Kreiger was lucky to have him as a team leader, but they weren't the objects of her search. The people she'd been looking for, her people, were sitting together in the back of the room, having pulled their chairs together to form a tight circle. Jenny smiled to herself. That circle was symbolic of what made this particular group of people so special. Not that you'd get a clue watching them on a typical day in the bullpen. They constantly bickered and sniped, but the support they offered each other, when the chips were down, far surpassed the usual 'watching your six' that was expected from team mates.

Sometimes she thought they were even tighter than the average family, although they all had 'familial' roles to play within the group dynamic. Ziva was the stern older sister, who often held herself aloof from her sillier, younger siblings, even though she'd protect them to the death against anyone who insulted them, or dared to try and hurt one of them. Abby and Tim were like quirky fraternal twins, so alike in some ways, and polar opposites in others, but impossibly lovable for all their peculiarities. Gibbs was the father, stern, iron fisted, and yet, underneath, capable of great love. Ducky served as the benevolent grandfather, who was generally content with offering comfort and words of wisdom, but just as prepared as the rest to defend in any way possible those he saw as his own. Jimmy, one of the newest members to the family, was like the goofy cousin that everyone loved, even if he wasn't always taken seriously. And Tony, well, Tony was the heart of the family unit; the brash jokester who hid his own insecurities behind silly antics and a quick wit, the golden child who didn't even realize how much the others looked up to him, depended on him. It was Tony, as much as Gibbs, who held them all together, as had been evident when Gibbs had taken his extended sabbatical in Mexico. It was also Tony who had the capacity to rip them apart. Jenny wasn't sure the team would survive if Tony died, and she hoped they had some good news to share. Needing to fortify herself, she took a deep, steadying breath, and entered the room

Not bothering to pause and greet the FBI contingency, Jenny went directly over to where her team sat, saying, "No, don't bother to get up," when McGee, Ducky and Jimmy automatically began to stand. "Stay where you are."

"At least let me get you a chair," Jimmy insisted, when the others sat back down, and he hurried to fetch her one.

Jenny waited until he'd returned, and the others scooted their own chairs tighter together, to make room for hers. Once seated, she asked, "So, what is the latest news on Tony, and how long before Gibbs is likely to wake up?" She'd heard about what had happened with Gibbs earlier, when Abby, true to her promise, had called Jenny to give her an update on what was happening at the hospital.

Ducky recounted for her what Brad had told them earlier, and in exchange, Jenny brought them up to speed on what was happening with the investigation out in Calverton. No one had seemed at all concerned when they learned that White was dead, and that Garrison's odds didn't look good, although there was much disgruntlement over the news that Phelps and Cooper were still on the loose. They had all quieted back down when Dr. Rippenger appeared to tell Ducky that Gibbs was starting to stir, and suggested that he might want to accompany him back into the ER so that he'd be there when Gibbs woke up. Ducky muttered under his breath, "I might, and then again, I might not," just loud enough for the people around him to hear, which elicited an understanding chuckle from them all, as he rose to comply.

The humor disappeared with Ducky, however, and the others resumed their solemn vigil, jumping slightly every time someone new entered the room, which unfortunately for them, was fairly frequent, as people were still stopping in, just to see if there was any news. It had been about twenty five minutes since Ducky had gone with the doctor, when Asst. Director Marshall appeared, with Liz at his heels. He had just gotten over to where Jenny and the others sat, and had begun to express his thanks for NCIS's help in apprehending the kidnappers, when he was interrupted by Abby, who had just looked over his shoulder and seen Liz.

"You bitch!" Abby screeched, as she leapt from her chair, knocking it over, and lunged at the other woman. "This is all your fault!!!! If you'd been even a half-way decent partner, Tony wouldn't be in there, fighting for his life," she screamed, right before she slammed her fist into Liz's nose, which immediately started to spurt blood. "You were supposed to have his back," Abby growled.

Liz pressed one hand to her nose, and grabbed for a pigtail with her other, screaming back, "You broke my nose, you crazy bitch. You're under arrest for assaulting a federal agent," even as she pulled at Abby's hair.

Abby was shrieking, "I heard you! I heard what you said to Tony," as she was winding up for another swing, and Ziva, who was now standing beside her, said coldly to Liz, "Let go of her hair or I'll break your hand for you, too." McGee reached out and put a restraining hand on Ziva's shoulder at the same time someone grabbed Abby around the waist, and lifted her up and away, just as her arm flew out, and one of her feet kicked forward.

"KNOCK IT OFF!" Gibbs' voice cut through the caterwauling. He'd just gotten to the waiting room, having waited until he and Ducky were out of earshot of the hospital personnel to raise Holy Cain over what Ducky had allowed the doctor to do, not at all expecting to have to break up a fist fight between one of his own people and an FBI agent. "What in the HELL is going on here?!?" he demanded, as he continued to hold a squirming Abby up in the air. The room had divided into groups, the FBI people standing by Templeton, and his own people, standing firmly behind Ziva, staring at the Bureau people, daring them to do, or say, anything.

"That spoiled rotten brat punched me in the nose for no reason! I want her brought up on charges!" Liz hissed.

"No reason?!! NO REASON?!!? You call not watching out for your partner, because you think you're better than he is, and letting him get taken by dirtbags, no reason? You've always had an attitude problem, Miss Uppity, thinking you know more, and are better than everyone else, and this time look at where it led!" Abby responded, just as vehemently as Liz.

"DO NOT try to put this one on me!" Liz snapped at her. Then, so angry she wasn't thinking straight, wasn't censoring what she said, she added, "Although it isn't hard to think I'm better than DiNozzo. He's a poor excuse for a federal agent!" Her disparaging statement caused everyone else in the room to gasp at the insensitivity of her remarks.

Gibbs, who was shocked by what Templeton had just said, lost his grip on Abby when she screamed and tore herself out of his arms, bodily tackling Liz, knocking them both to the floor. They were rolling around on the floor, punching, scratching and kicking, scattering chairs as they knocked into them, before any of the others in the room snapped into action and tried to separate them. Gibbs reached down to grab Abby again, at the same time Morgan reached for Liz, both of them yelling at the two women, trying to get them to stop fighting. By the time Gibbs and Morgan had them somewhat under control, they both had scratches on their faces, their clothing was askew, Abby's right eye was bruised and starting to swell shut, one of her pigtails had come undone, and Liz was clutching a hunk of Abby's hair in her fist.

Marshall and Jenny had moved to the side, to avoid being knocked into, as they watched the scene unfold before their horrified eyes. "Agent Templeton!" Marshall barked, "that will be quite enough!" at the same time Jenny said, "Abby, stop it this instant!"

Both women were panting and glaring at each other, although they'd stopped their yelling, and Ducky, who hadn't made it very far into the room when the fight had broken out, realized there was a crowd of hospital personnel standing behind him, watching the spectacle. "It's all over now," he told the medical staff. "Nothing more to see. Nerves are frayed and tempers are on edge in here, but it's all under control now. I'll come get someone when we're ready to patch them up, but thank you for your concern."

Gibbs and Morgan were both busy quietly whispering orders into the women's ears, when Jenny cleared her throat and said to Marshall, "I'm terribly sorry about this. These last few hours have been incredibly hard on all of my people, but particularly on Ms. Sciuto, who is very close to Agent DiNozzo. I'm sure she's very sorry for her actions."

Gibbs put a hand over Abby's mouth, when it looked like she was going to contradict what Jenny had just said, and Marshall responded with, "I understand. I'm sure you realize Templeton is exhausted as well, or else I'm sure she would never have said something as insensitive as she did." Morgan didn't cover Liz's mouth, but he did glare at her, warning her against saying a word. "Perhaps we should just pretend this didn't happen?" he asked Jenny, who quickly nodded her agreement. "It might be best if Agent Templeton went upstairs to pay her respects to Agent Fornell," he added, once he and Jenny had come to an understanding.

Gibbs didn't approve of what Abby had done, but he certainly understood it, and he was still seething over what Templeton had said about Tony. Marshall's last remark was just the opening he'd been hoping for, and he couldn't resist snarking, "I'm not sure I'd let Fornell see Templeton, unless you want a replay of this little scene."

Marshall turned to look at him and demanded, "What do you mean, Agent Gibbs?"

It was all Gibbs could do to keep from smirking when he said, "I know Fornell hasn't had a chance to report about what happened in Calverton, but you should know that Agent Templeton here, is directly responsible for getting him shot." All of the FBI agents in the room, who had finally begun to relax, immediately drew themselves back up to full height, when he said that, ready to defend one of their own.

"That's a serious accusation. I think you'd better explain yourself," Marshall said, as Jenny glared at Gibbs.

Again, that was what Gibbs had been hoping for, and he proceeded to outline what had happened in the kitchen, which, although not a sign of bad behavior, certainly did not cast Liz in a good light. He then proceeded to tell them how she had been ordered to remain there, guarding the two prisoners, but had disobeyed a direct order. In direct contravention of procedure, she had entered, unannounced, the hallway where the gun fight was occurring, distracting Fornell, and causing him to look away at a critical moment. Her actions were the direct cause of why he hadn't been able to move clear of the gun shot that ended up hitting him in the arm.

Liz started to angrily object to what he was saying, ready to defend her actions, when Marshall interrupted her, "Not a word from you Templeton. You've said quite enough for one day. I think it would be best if you go home now, and we'll talk about all of this in the morning, after I've spoken to Agent Fornell." Everyone in the room watched silently when Liz yanked her arm out of Morgan's grasp, took a brief moment to straighten her clothing, dropped the hunk of Abby's hair she held in her hand onto the floor, then spun on her heels and stalked out of the room.

Gibbs, who was still holding Abby, looked over at Ducky, who had moved to be closer to the team, and said, "Guess I really did need that sleep. Hadn't expected to referee a fight today for Ms. Louisiana Slugger. But that doesn't let you off the hook, Duck. We'll be talking about this later."

"As you wish," Ducky said with a twinkle in his eyes, "but perhaps it could wait until after we've gotten these scratches on Ms. Slugger, here, cleaned up, and perhaps some ice on her eye?"

"Perhaps," Gibbs said, mimicking Ducky's words. "Anyone else you want to take a swing at, before Ducky patches you up?" he asked her, before he released her into Ducky's care.

"Nah, I'm good," Abby told him cheekily. "But I would have taken her if you hadn't interfered!" she added, which made all of the people from NCIS laugh.

Unfortunately that was the last laugh any of them had for some time. While Ducky was cleaning up the gouges on Abby's face, neck and arms, Brad came into the room to inform them that they were finally able to move Tony up to ICU. "It will take us about an hour to get him all hooked up. Why don't you get a quick bite to eat, and then come on up to the waiting room there. I'll have a nurse watch for you, and I'll come out and see you once he's settled in." Looking at Gibbs he said, "I assume you'll want to go in to see him?"

"Definitely," Gibbs answered.

"Won't be a problem," Brad answered. "I'll give you the complete run down on where we are right now, and what you can expect over the next several days before you go in."

"Appreciate everything you're doing," Gibbs told Brad.

"Not a problem. I'd do it over and over again for Tony, only hope I don't have to," Brad told him.

Gibbs just nodded in agreement.


	25. Chapter 25

"**A Friend in Need" – Chapter Twenty-Five**

Wednesday morning came too soon for Gibbs. He'd spent Tuesday night at the hospital, holding his own private vigil for Tony. Around midnight he'd insisted that everyone else go home for the night. There had been a steady stream of people stopping in all evening, and Gibbs desperately needed some time alone. Tony had been asleep when Gibbs had first seen him that evening. Watching him lying still in the bed, dwarfed by the machinery surrounding him, and the bandages in which he was swathed, Gibbs had been shaken by how vulnerable he looked. Tony had awakened during Gibbs' second visit, although he hadn't been coherent. Gibbs had sought out Brad, who was still there monitoring Tony's condition, demanding to know what was happening with Tony. He was concerned Tony was still incoherent because of the amount of medication he was receiving. He'd been horrified when Brad had told him that it was just the opposite of what Gibbs suspected, that Tony's confusion was actually being caused by the pain he was still experiencing. The doctors had given him almost no pain medication, as it had a tendency to depress the respiratory system, something Tony couldn't afford at the moment. The doctors were counting on Tony's exhaustion, and the after-effects of being dehydrated, keeping him asleep, thereby avoiding the necessity for pain medication.

Abby had accompanied Gibbs on the third visit, desperately needing to see him with her own eyes. Tony, who'd been asleep when they entered, had stirred slightly as she'd spoken to him, but had never roused himself completely from sleep. On Gibbs' fourth visit, Tony had actually recognized him. Gibbs' heart had ached at the panic in his eyes when Tony tried to reach up to remove the oxygen mask so he could speak clearly, only to discover he couldn't move his arms. No amount of reassurance seemed to ease his panic, and Gibbs wasn't sure how much of what he was saying Tony could actually comprehend. The fifth visit was at midnight, after the others had left, and Gibbs spent his precious ten minutes time with Tony watching him sleep. The sixth, seventh and eighth visits were a repeat of the fifth, although Gibbs was slightly encouraged when he noticed on the monitor that Tony's temperature was down to 100 degrees, from the 102.5 it had been earlier.

At four o'clock, and the ninth visit, Tony had actually tried to communicate with him, repeatedly closing his eyes, and then nodding his head towards Gibbs. He realized that Tony was suggesting that he should be asleep. The irony of that actually made Gibbs have to choke back tears. In an attempt to pacify Tony, Gibbs had told him about the trick Ducky had played on him in the emergency room, and had been rewarded by seeing a smile form around Tony's eyes. That alone had been reason enough for Gibbs to forgive Ducky for bushwhacking him earlier. Now it was seven o'clock, Wednesday morning, and Gibbs was on his twelfth visit, his one hundred and twentieth minute alone with Tony. He knew that this would be his last visit for a few hours, and he was silently willing time to stop. He was going to have to go in to the office for a little while, at least long enough to fill out his case reports, and check in with Internal Affairs. Since he'd fired his weapon into a room in which two of the perps had been shot, a conversation with IA was mandatory. He also wanted to see how the FBI was doing with the investigation, and what progress they had made towards finding Phelps and that woman, Cooper. He didn't want them to fall through the cracks, while everyone focused on the evidence and the hostiles they already had in custody. Phelps had been the mastermind behind the whole scheme, which meant he was directly responsible for Tony's condition. Gibbs would be damned if the man was going to be allowed to get away. He had to pay for all the deaths, and for the injuries sustained by Brent, Tobias, Vic Merit, and Courtney Kreiger. He most especially had to pay for the suffering he'd already caused Tony, and all the suffering that was yet to come.

Tony was awake again, fidgeting in obvious pain, sporadically coughing, despite the oxygen mask that was ensuring he received the air he needed, but more alert than he'd been since arriving at the hospital yesterday. Gibbs was explaining to him why he had to leave for a while, even though he didn't want to, and assuring him that he'd be back as soon as possible. Tony had attempted to respond, although his words had been muffled, and impossible to interpret. Finally Tony had begun to rub his face against the pillow, in an attempt to dislodge the mask from his face, so that he could speak to Gibbs. Knowing Tony wouldn't stop until the mask was off, and deciding that it wouldn't hurt Tony to be without the oxygen for just a minute, Gibbs said, "Stop it Tony. If you keep doing that you're going to get a pillow burn on your cheek. I'll get it for you." He reached out, sliding the mask down Tony's face, letting it dangle from his chin.

"Don't worry about me," Tony had said, in a voice rough and scratchy from disuse, once his mouth had been freed. "I'll be fine."

"I know that," Gibbs told him gruffly, ignoring how long it was really going to take before Tony was 'fine' again, wanting to sound as normal as possible, so as not to scare Tony. Gibbs knew that it would be months before Tony fully recovered from his injuries, and his recovery from the psychological scars was going to take even longer. "Never said you weren't going to be. Just don't see any reason anyone should have to be alone in the hospital."

"S'okay," Tony said. "I spend most of my time sleeping anyway. Is everyone else okay?" he managed to ask, then he gasped, "Shit!" when pain shot through his body as he tried to sit up.

"Can't do that," Gibbs told him. "Both of your shoulders were dislocated, so you need to stay as still as possible. Brad says it'll take a while before you can use your arms again. And yes, everyone else is fine. Fornell caught a bullet in the arm, but they got it out, and he's going to be good as new."

"That's good," Tony managed to choke out, right before he was overcome by another coughing fit. Between coughs, Tony asked, "What all's wrong with me?"

"Going to put the mask back in place, then I'll answer you," Gibbs told him, hoping the mask would help stop the coughing, and moving quickly, before Tony managed to get out words of protest. Once he'd slid the mask back over Tony's mouth and nose, he said, "Both wrists are broken, both feet were ripped up, and will take some time to heal, acute bronchitis, dehydration, and your back is pretty cut up, and some of it's infected. All in all, you've had better days," he added, wanting to downplay the severity of Tony's injuries, but knowing there was no point in lying about them, either. He hoped that by ticking off the injuries as if reading a list, putting no special emphasis on any specific one, Tony wouldn't ask any more questions right now, when he wasn't really strong enough to deal with the reality of his condition. "For now, you just need to let your body rest while it heals," Gibbs ordered gently. "Everything else  
can wait."

Tony nodded his agreement, and Gibbs said his farewells. He'd just gotten to the door when he heard Tony say weakly, "See you soon."

Turning back around, Gibbs saw that Tony had managed to dislodge the mask from his face. Going back over to the bed, Gibbs replaced the mask on Tony's face. "Leave it alone, Tony. You need that oxygen. I'll be back as soon as I can. Don't want to hear that you've been a problem. Clear?"

Tony said something which was muffled by the mask, but Gibbs smiled. He didn't need to hear clearly to know that Tony had just said, "Yes Boss."

"Damned straight," Gibbs responded, then unable to resist, he added, "Love you," in a quiet voice. Then, slightly embarrassed by his emotional admission, and not trusting what else he might say, he turned on his heels and hurried from the room.

Going down to the floor Merit was on, Gibbs went to the waiting room, sure there would be at least one or two FBI agents he knew hanging around, waiting for a chance to see their buddy. When he walked in, he saw both Estes and Primus sitting in chairs, eating bagels and sipping on coffee. Primus jumped up when he saw Gibbs, exclaiming, "Gibbs, how's DiNozzo doing?"

"He's hanging in there," Gibbs answered. "Listen Primus, I caught a ride here yesterday in your boss' helicopter, and don't have my car here. Would give me a ride over to the Yard? I had one of my guys drive my car back there for me last night."

"No problem," Primus told him. "Glad to be of help. Do you need to stop off at your house first, for clean clothes or anything?"

"Nah," Gibbs said. "I can take a quick shower at Headquarters, and I've got a clean set of clothes in my locker. Don't want to put you out any more than necessary."

"You're not putting me out," Primus assured him. "We all want to do whatever we can to help. We owe you big time."

"You don't owe us anything," Gibbs assured him, as they moved towards the door. "We were just doing the same thing you would have done for us."

Primus didn't respond to that, as they walked along, although he privately felt that NCIS had done over and above what the Bureau would have done for them. He loved his job, but he wasn't wearing blinders, and he knew the FBI had a tendency to look out for itself, first and foremost. What NCIS had done hadn't been self serving. As a matter of fact, when he'd watched the news coverage of the operation out at Calverton last night, he'd been amazed when NCIS's involvement hadn't been mentioned at all. That had bothered him, especially when he heard about DiNozzo's condition. From his perspective, driving Gibbs around didn't begin to cover the debt the Bureau owed these people, but for the moment, it was all he could do.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Abby was already in by the time Gibbs got to the Yard and managed to clean himself up and put on fresh clothes. When he got down to her lab, she was sitting at a computer, typing away, her tongue caught between her teeth, with just the tip sticking out to the side. Her hair was pulled up in her usual pigtails, and she wore one of her many ubiquitous black ensembles, but her face was virtually bare of makeup, her right eye was black and blue and swollen shut, and her customary red lipstick was missing, a sure sign that she'd been in a hurry to get in that morning. Gibbs stood in the doorway watching her, wondering what time she'd gotten to work. Worried that she might have been there for hours, and not wanting to startle her, he cleared his throat before he stepped all the way into the room. When she looked up, she leaped from her chair and hurried over to him before he even had a chance to speak. "How's Tony? How are you? What are you doing here? You should be at the hospital with him!" she said, as she approached with extraordinary speed, considering her enormous boots.

"Tony's doing about as well as anyone could hope," Gibbs assured her. "I need to fill out paperwork on the operation yesterday before IA sends out a search party to track me down. What had you so engrossed, and what time did you get in?" Gibbs asked.

"I've been trying to track Phelps and Cooper electronically," she answered. She then held up her hand to stop Gibbs, in case he was going to object, "I know it's technically the Bureau's investigation now, but no one said I couldn't work on it when I wasn't on the clock. There's no way I'm letting those scumbags get away, and sometimes those people over at the FBI just don't think outside the box, and I specialize in that," she told him with a grin.

"Not about to stop you, Abs," Gibbs said. "I want them as bad as you. Any luck?"

Abby shook her head in disgust. "Not really. I know that Phelps clearly didn't have any plans of ever going back to his old life. I discovered he sold the townhouse he'd owned for the last ten years, six months ago, and rented that cheap apartment we had listed as his address. The problem with that is, I don't find any record of him depositing the money from the sale anywhere, so I don't know what he did with it."

"Wonder if he used it as start up money for their kidnapping scheme?" Gibbs mused. "They would have needed some money to bankroll their first kidnapping, for things like electronic equipment and vehicles. Any record of him making large purchases in the last few months?"

"No, none. I did trace the corporation that was listed on the rental agreement for the plantation house in Calverton. It's listed as being Moriarty Missions and the CEO is an Erik Weisz and the CFO is Brigid O'Shaughnessy," she told him with an arched eyebrow. When Gibbs didn't respond, she huffed, "You don't get it, do you? Gibbs, I'm disappointed in you. Tony would have gotten it immediately. The names are all a big joke; Moriarty was Sherlock Holmes' arch nemesis, and Erik Weisz was Houdini's birth name. Brigid O'Shaughnessy is a movie, and a literary reference. She was a murderess who slept with Sam Spade, hoping to get him to do her dirty work for her. He later turned her over to the police. They're all dead ends, and when you search for them on the internet, you get a million hits, but not a one that leads to a real person."

"They think they're real funny," Gibbs snapped. "They've been using puns all along, rubbing our faces in it. Hope they're still laughing when they're rotting in a jail cell."

"Yeah, well, first I've got to find them," Abby said woefully, "and I haven't been having much luck yet."

"We'll get them Abs, one way or another. Don't worry. There's no way I'm letting Phelps walk on this, and I doubt if Fornell will, either. Have you by any chance checked to see if there were passports issued under the names Erik Weisz and Brigid O'Shaughnessy? Might be worth a try. They've been very careful thus far, so there's a chance they may have had an escape plan in place, one that included false identifications," Gibbs suggested, trying to keep the frustration he was feeling from showing in his voice. None of this was Abby's fault, and he didn't want to do anything that made her feel guilty, or put more pressure on her than she was already putting on herself.

"No, but that's a brilliant idea, Bossman!" Abby exclaimed. "I'll get on that right away."

"Call me if you find something," Gibbs said, as he turned to go up to the Bullpen.

"When can I see Tony again?" Abby called after him.

"Give him a day or so, Abs. They can't give him much in the way of pain meds right now, because of his breathing issues, and he's in a lot of pain. Besides, you don't want to scare him with that eye of yours, do you Slugger?" he added with a grin. He hadn't commented on it until now, but the temptation to poke at her was just too great to resist.

Abby snorted, then reached up and gently touched a finger to her eye. "I hope her nose is bent and swollen up like a clown's," she hissed.

"Don't know about that," Gibbs smirked, "but I'll bet its plenty sore." Then he remembered something Abby had said during the fight that he had wondered about, but hadn't pursued at the time. "Abs, what did you mean when you told her you'd heard what she said to Tony?"

"Instead of telling you, let me show you," Abby answered him, as she moved over to her computer. "I was talking to Jimmy on the phone when it happened, and he was right by them. When I realized what I was hearing, I pressed record on my phone, and got the whole thing recorded." She tapped on her keyboard, and then said, "You aren't going to believe this. That woman is a total bitch, and deserves everything I said to her last night and more!"

Gibbs stood and listened, when Liz Templeton's voice came out of the speakers in the lab. "You have no idea??? Are you serious? How about showing me up on my last day on the job, so I had no way to change Gibbs' opinion of me? How about going out of your way to make me look incompetent, so I left NCIS under a cloud, looking like a slacker, instead of the competent federal agent I am?? How about accepting a job that you KNEW you weren't qualified for, some cop from Baltimore, with no federal law enforcement experience AT ALL, but you're suddenly hired for the best team at NCIS??? You managed to get yourself captured by a serial killer, beaten, molested, and isn't that just a polite way of saying 'fucked' and then, then you manage to guilt Gibbs into hiring you?? And I'm supposed to be ok with that? Why the hell do you think I quit? I sure as hell wasn't getting stuck working with you, that's for damn sure. I don't know how you managed to fool Gibbs all this time, but I did the background check on you for Gibbs, and I KNOW you don't belong here. If you consider that rubbing me the wrong way, well excuse me, Senior Field Agent DiNozzo, but the bottom line here is, I'm FBI, and you're NCIS. I'm the one with experience, and WE should be running this investigation. We started it, and we'll be ones to solve this case. Having you along is going to screw this up, and I am not going to be the one to take the blame for your mistakes. I don't want a damn apology, I want you to stay the hell out of my way, and let me do my job!!"

"Turn it off!" Gibbs hissed through clenched teeth, his eyes flashing in anger.

"Now do you understand why I had to punch her?!" Abby asked, hands on her hips, feeling as if the tape totally vindicated her actions last night.

"Oh yeah," Gibbs told her, as he worked to calm himself. "I want a copy of that recording!" He might not be able to belt Templeton the way he'd like to, but he'd make sure Fornell heard that tape, and with any luck, she'd be off Morgan's team, and out of the Washington branch of the Bureau before she knew what had hit her. He doubted if she'd be so high and mighty when she got transferred to bumfuck Alaska, her career effectively over. Without so much as a good bye, Gibbs headed for the elevator, too angry to trust himself with saying anything more.

McGee and Ziva were already at their desks, typing up their reports on the Calverton operation when Gibbs stepped off the elevator. He crossed to his desk, without so much as a hello, or even a nod in their direction. After exchanging a quick glance, McGee jerked his head towards Gibbs, indicating to Ziva that she should approach him. Ziva stared at him for a second, and then shook her head, wondering why he thought she should be the one to put her neck on the line. Gibbs was in a foul mood, there was no mistaking the invisible dark cloud that surrounded him, as he slammed his desk drawers as he dug for something. She pointed a finger first at McGee and then at Gibbs, crossed her arms across her chest, as she held his gaze, silently demanding that he be the one to deal with it.

McGee gave her one more wilting glare, and then looked away, watching out of the corner of his eye as Gibbs tore through his desk. Taking a deep breath, he asked out loud, "Um…are you looking for something, Boss?"

Gibbs looked up from the bottom desk drawer he was pawing through, and fixed McGee with a fierce stare, "What made you think that, McGee?" he snapped.

"Well, you were ……" McGee started, only to be interrupted by Gibbs.

"Of course I'm looking for something. I used to have a small portable tape player in my desk, and I can't find it," Gibbs barked.

"I've got one you can have," McGee volunteered quickly, wondering why anyone today would want one. "Um, why do you need it, Boss?" he asked hesitantly.

"I asked Abby to make me a copy of a recording. I need to be able to play it for someone," Gibbs said through gritted teeth, not wanting to get into the details until he had his temper under better control.

"Ah, did she play it for you from her computer?" McGee asked.

"How else?" Gibbs answered, his tone implying that had been the most stupid question he'd ever heard.

"Well then, um, she's probably just going to burn it onto a CD for you, Boss. She can't really transfer that to a cassette tape. You can just play it on your laptop," McGee told Gibbs. There were times McGee was stunned by Gibbs' lack of understanding of modern technology, and it was always like walking a tightrope when trying to bring him up to speed without irritating him, particularly when he was in a bad mood, as was clearly the case today.

"Why didn't you say something sooner?" Gibbs demanded, and McGee just swallowed, understanding that this was going to be one of those days when Gibbs was completely unreasonable.

Knowing it was just better to go with it, McGee muttered a quiet, "Sorry, Boss," and went back to studiously working on his report.

Now that Gibbs no longer needed the tape player, he swung his gaze over to Ziva. "Has IA been up here yet?" he demanded.

"Not yet. I sent them an email when I got in, letting them know I was available." Then, having watched what had happened with McGee, and not wanting to be in Gibbs' crossfire, she quickly added, "I will send them one right now, letting them know that you are here, as well."

"Tell them I want to see them at 0900," Gibbs ordered, after looking at his watch and seeing that it was 0815. "I'm going up to see the Director. I'll be back down by the time they get here." Noting Ziva rapidly typing the email, he stormed up the stairs that led to MTAC and Jenny's office.

It was Ziva's turn to swallow nervously. It was never a good idea to anger IA, and issuing orders to them was definitely likely to put one firmly on their bad side. Not that she had any intention of arguing with Gibbs, even if he was still there; she'd much rather deal with a pissed off IA officer rather than a thwarted Gibbs. Calling up her email, she pulled up IA's name and typed, "Special Agent Gibbs asked me to inform you that he would be available at 0900 to speak with someone about yesterday's shootings. He is on a very tight schedule today, since he is needed to coordinate with the FBI, but wanted to make sure that you weren't inconvenienced, and had a chance to get his report early today." After signing off on the missive, she clicked on 'send', hoping that was going to be enough to soften Gibbs' order. Not really trusting her own abilities at diplomacy, and wishing it had been McGee who had been tasked with this communication, she hoped for the best. After checking to make sure Gibbs was safely out of earshot, she turned to her partner and asked, "What got caught in his claw, do you think?"

"Craw, got caught in his craw. And I don't know. I just IMed Abby, hoping she can give us a clue," McGee said, as he tapped away at his computer. When his computer pinged, and after reading his screen, he said, "Abby said we should listen to this. Come over here, Ziva. I don't want to broadcast this, but we should probably both give it a listen. It's got to be bad to send Gibbs over the edge like that."

When Ziva had settled herself down on the edge of his desk, McGee reached over and adjusted the speakers on his computer to low, then clicked on the link Abby had sent him. Within seconds Liz Templeton's voice could be heard, and Ziva listened in stunned silence to the recording Abby had played for Gibbs earlier. McGee didn't say anything when he realized what it was; he'd been there when Abby had made the recording, although in all the excitement yesterday, he'd completely forgotten about it.

"That is unacceptable!" Ziva spat out, when the recording stopped. "It is no wonder Gibbs is so angry. Templeton would do well to avoid coming near NCIS ever again! Tony is ten times the agent she could ever hope to be."

"Agreed," Gibbs said, causing both Ziva and McGee to jump. Swiveling their heads, they saw Gibbs standing a little to their left.

"Um Boss, thought you were up in MTAC," McGee stammered, trying hard not to visibly cringe, and failing miserably.

"Director Shepard's in a meeting with AD Webb, from the Bureau. Didn't want to get in the middle of it," Gibbs answered. "I see Abby's shared the recording with you," he added needlessly.

"Yeah, sorry Boss. Didn't mean to pry," McGee managed to say.

"Ah hell, it's okay McGee. Didn't mean to take it out on you and Ziva earlier. Don't even know why it pissed me off so much," Gibbs said, coming as close to an apology as he was ever likely to with his subordinates.

"Because you knew it would have hurt Tony. Even if he could never bring himself to admit it," Ziva said, surprising herself with her honesty.

"Yeah, you're right," Gibbs conceded, and he and Ziva exchanged a look that McGee couldn't interpret.

"How is Tony?" McGee asked, uncomfortable with the way the conversation was going. Gibbs wasn't supposed to show compassion, that didn't fit in with McGee's image of him. Plus, he sensed that Ziva knew something he didn't, something that she and Gibbs were obliquely referring to, and that served to magnify his discomfort. Maybe getting Gibbs to talk about Tony's injuries wasn't the most cheerful of segues, but at least it was familiar ground, McGee thought ruefully. No one could deny they'd had variations of this conversation several times over the last few years.

"Holding his own," Gibbs answered. "He was awake and alert when I left, although he was frustrated by the oxygen mask, and his inability to use his arms."

"I doubt if that will get any better as his condition improves," McGee commented. Tony was a notoriously bad patient, and the more helpless he was, the worse the situation became.

Gibbs grunted his agreement, and just like that, things began to seem more normal again.

The IA team arrived at 0900, and set up in one of the interrogation rooms. They started their interviews with Gibbs, who didn't understand why they began by thanking him for being so considerate. He decided not to ask, since most of his interactions with IA usually bordered on adversarial, and this was a pleasant change. It didn't take the representatives from IA long to decide there hadn't been any wrong doing on either Ziva's or Gibbs' parts. After she'd given her report, one of the agents couldn't resist commenting with a grin, "Glad you're on our side." The description of how Ziva had ended up firing both her weapons at the same time clearly astounded them, as they pictured her flying past an open door, firing her weapons as she soared through the air. As they were leaving, the IA agents stopped by the bullpen to let Gibbs and Ziva know that they'd check in with them as soon as the ballistic reports were in, although after hearing what had happened, they were sure it would just be a formality. They then shocked every other NCIS agent within hearing range when they again thanked them for being so easy to work with, and expressed their hopes that Tony would get better soon.

Jenny had been standing at the top of the stairs, about to go down and talk to Gibbs, when the IA men had said their farewells, and as they got into the elevator, she descended. "Well, that was certainly unusual," she commented with a raised eyebrow when she got to Gibbs' desk. "Normally I have to spend an entire day apologizing to the head of IA after they've interviewed you."

Gibbs shrugged, "Yeah, don't know what was up with them today, but I'm not complaining."

"Cynthia said you wanted to see me," Jenny said.

"I need you to stand down my team," Gibbs told her. "I'm guessing Webb was up there insisting that the Bureau take over all aspects of the investigation, now that we've broken up the syndicate for them, and identified all the hostiles," he added, as he gave her his typical Gibbs stare.

"I was going to give your team the next two days off," Jenny told him. "I think you have all earned it. And yes, the FBI will be taking over the investigation," she confirmed. "That was essentially the deal you made with Fornell when the whole thing began. They've got a lot of damage control to do, what with DeAngelo, and even more importantly, Phelps. It doesn't look good for them that the ring leader was an ex-agent, who still had access to their files. I think that should give them the proper motivation to find Phelps quickly. Their forensics people collected enough evidence to keep them busy for an entire week, plus they'll have to go back and interview every kidnapping victim, now that their identities have all been revealed. For such smart perps they certainly left a lot of evidence at that house. Guess they never expected us to find them. We won't even need to share the information McGee and Abby gathered through what the Bureau might consider questionable channels, which saves me from having to do any damage control."

Again Gibbs snorted in response, not bothering to comment further.

"I assume you are planning on going back to the hospital," Jenny said then.

"Yeah, just as soon as I get you our reports," Gibbs agreed.

"I need to do several things here, but I'm hoping to get over there right after lunch," Jenny told him. "I spoke with the attending doctor earlier, who said Tony seemed to be responding to the antibiotics Dr. Pitt has him on." When Gibbs nodded, she continued, more softly now, "He's going to be okay, Jethro. Tony is a fighter."

"I know that Jenny," Gibbs answered, "but it isn't right that he has to."

"I agree, and we'll make sure that the FBI gets everyone who's responsible for this. And if they don't…." She left the last sentence unfinished, but they all knew what she meant. If the Bureau couldn't find Phelps and Cooper, NCIS, or more specifically, Gibbs' team, would.

It only took Gibbs another half hour to finish his report. Once it was done, and he'd reviewed Ziva's and McGee's, he put them in an interoffice folder and tossed them over onto McGee's desk. "Take these up to Director Shepard's office. You heard her, you've got the next two days off. I'll see you over at the hospital," he added, as he started to move away, never questioning what they would choose to do with their day off. He knew that just like the night before, he would have to force them to go home tonight.

"On it Boss," McGee called out. Turning to Ziva, he said, "I get to drive."

"We will see," Ziva said, as she began to pack up her things. Once McGee had gone up the stairs, she smirked, swung her bag over her shoulder, and crossed to McGee's desk. She grabbed the keys to the company car from off of the top of his desk, and headed for elevator at top speed, knowing he would know where to find her when he got back down to the bullpen.


	26. Chapter 26

"**A Friend in Need" – Chapter Twenty-Six**

Gibbs sat in the dimly lit main waiting room on Bethesda's ICU floor, impatiently counting down the minutes until 1100 rolled around, when he could go back in to see Tony. He'd stopped a nurse when he'd first gotten back, asking if Dr. Pitt was around, only to be told that he was with a patient, but that she'd be sure to let him know that Gibbs wanted to see him when he was free. Ten minutes later, Brad had appeared. Although his clothes and lab coat appeared clean, he didn't look like his usual dapper self. There was a slightly rumpled quality to him which seemed to emphasis the dark circles under his eyes, and the strained lines of fatigue that pulled at the corners of his eyes. Gibbs knew that he'd stayed at the hospital far later than usual last night, making sure that Tony didn't take a turn for the worse, but that didn't seem to explain the level of exhaustion Brad was exhibiting. "Long day already?" he asked the young doctor, when Brad took the opportunity to sink into the chair next to Gibbs.

"More like a really short night," Brad answered, as he stretched his long legs out in front of him. "Got home at around 0200, only to get a call from the hospital at 0330, saying I needed to come back. Spent the next four hours in surgery, helping to repair the lungs of some stupid sailor who thought it was a good idea to get drunk, and then wrap his car around a telephone pole. He broke every rib in his body, poking several of them straight through his lungs. It was a miracle he even made it to the hospital alive, and an even bigger miracle that he didn't hurt anyone else in the process. Now he's in the room next to Tony's. But you don't want to hear about my day, do you?"

"Fascinating as it is, I was kinda hoping for an update on how Tony was doing, before all the troops arrive," Gibbs answered dryly.

"Yeah, I figured NCIS, and probably the FBI, would be here in full strength today. I've actually arranged for you to have one of the private family waiting rooms for the day, since I want there to be some room left in this waiting room for the families of the other patients. When we had those two FBI agents up here over the weekend, we had to funnel everyone else out of here, as it became a regular three ring circus in here. The nurses were overjoyed when Langer got moved to the step-down unit yesterday morning, thinking things were finally going to settle down. I really don't think they were pleased to see Tony arrive last night. Let me give you a run down on where things stand, then I'll show you to the room we reserved," Brad said. "Tony seems to be responding well to the antibiotics I'm giving him for the bronchitis, and the ones we're hoping will fight the infections in the wounds on his back, legs, and feet. I'm not ready to switch him to a nasal cannula yet, since he still needs a lot of help getting the right amount of air, which we can regulate better with the oxygen mask. If all goes well, that can go away tomorrow, and we'll make the switch. We had to start giving him more aggressive pain control a couple of hours ago, so that makes the oxygen even more important. As he improves, it will be like balancing on a double edged sword. He's going to become more and more alert as his temperature goes down, and as the bronchitis starts to ebb, but at the same time, that increased awareness is going to make the pain harder to bear. There's no way he isn't in agony, Gibbs. Because of his shoulders and ribs, we have to have him on his back right now, and that puts pressure on all the wounds and bruises. Ideally, he'd be lying on his belly, but that just can't happen right now. Additionally, since the dressings have to be changed frequently, we are constantly agitating the most painful areas. That's why we had to resort to giving him pain meds."

"Has he said anything about it?" Gibbs asked Brad.

Brad just snorted in bitter laughter. "You know Tony. Do you really think he would willingly admit to anything like being in excruciating pain? No, he even managed to make a couple of really lame jokes about wanting to trade me in for Dr. House when I took the mask off of him, but that was about it. Talking takes a lot of effort for him right now, effort he'd be smart to hold in reserve. You need to keep that in mind. I know your team is going to want to see him, and I'm not about to suggest that they shouldn't. It'll do Tony good to know they're really all okay, and are here, pulling for him, but their visits should be kept to a minimum, for now. It'd be better if it was just you that spent the bulk of the time with him. For some reason, he doesn't seem to feel the need to show a lot of bravado for you, which is pretty unusual for Tony. Maybe you'll explain that to me one day?" Brad said archly.

Gibbs didn't buy Brad's innocent act for a single second. He knew that Tony and Brad had become good friends over the years, and he suspected that Brad knew full well about his and Tony's relationship. "Do I really need to?" he muttered.

The smirk Brad gave him, full of adolescent like glee, answered any question Gibbs might have on the subject. Actually, he was glad that Brad had brought the subject up, if only in an oblique manner. Gibbs now knew he didn't have to worry about what either he or Tony might inadvertently say in front of him, and all things considered, Gibbs was more than willing to have one less thing to be concerned about right now. Hell, if he really thought about it, it wasn't as if their big secret was such a secret anymore. Ducky and Abby had known about them for years. Now Ziva, and quite possibly, Courtney Kreiger, knew, and neither seemed to have a problem with it. At the rate things were going, he supposed it wouldn't be long before McGee caught on, or Ziva told him, and that would mean that Jenny wouldn't be far behind. Who knew who Kreiger might tell? Gibbs shook his head. It wasn't worth worrying about something he couldn't control when there were more pressing issues, like Tony's recovery.

'Christ, might as well take an ad out in the paper,' Gibbs thought, although he was surprised to discover that he wasn't nearly as upset by the prospect of being 'outted' as he'd always thought he would be if the situation arose. It wasn't as if he was ashamed of his relationship with Tony, and he seriously doubted if Jenny would do anything that would break up the team. It was hard to argue with their results, and their success made her look good. If some of the people he knew turned out to be closet homophobes, well, he just didn't care. He didn't even really think about their relationship in terms of homosexuality, although, on an intellectual level, he knew that was the correct definition. To him, it was just he and Tony, and the fact that they were both men didn't really factor into their relationship. He hadn't been attracted to Tony because he was a man; it had been his personality and vitality that had first caught  
Gibbs' attention. True, it hadn't hurt that Tony was beautiful, but it really hadn't mattered as much as others might think. Now, now it was the totality of Tony - his sense of humor, his innate kindness, his intelligence and creativity, his insecurities, even his pig-headedness – in short, his essence, that Gibbs loved, not his pretty face. Not that they'd ever talked about their 'relationship'. Their feelings were something they rarely put in to words, neither being very comfortable with overt verbal expressions of affection.

"Hey Gibbs, you still with me?" Brad's voice cut into his thoughts.

"Yeah, sorry. Guess I'm more tired than I realized. Just sort of drifted off there for a minute," Gibbs answered him.

"Well, I think you're entitled. You didn't get any sleep last night, and from everything that I've been able to gather, it doesn't sound as if you'd had much sleep in the previous few days, either. Come on," Brad said, as he painfully pushed himself back up onto his feet, "I'll show you to the family room we set aside for your group."

"What about the others?" Gibbs asked.

"Don't worry," Brad laughed. "The nurses on duty will know who they are the minute they show up, and will point them in the right direction. After all, all you feds look alike," he joked.

Thinking about how insulted Ziva would be if she knew Brad had implied she looked like an FBI agent, Gibbs was still chuckling as he followed the doctor out of the room and down the hall.

So now, there Gibbs was, sitting in that room, ten minutes away from the visiting hour, wondering what kind of shape Tony would be in when he got to his room. He'd just given up on sitting, and was pacing the floor, the cup of coffee that Brad had sent a nurse in to give him clutched in his hand, when Ziva and McGee arrived.

"What's the news on Tony?" were McGee's first words upon entering, after which he looked at the coffee cup in Gibbs' hand, and the one that he, himself was clutching. Wordlessly, he extended the cup out to Gibbs, who took it in his other hand, as he prepared to answer.

"Dr. Pitt seemed guardedly optimistic," Gibbs answered. "Tony's continuing to respond to the antibiotics, which seems to be Pitt's most pressing concern."

"Have you been in to see him yet?" Ziva asked.

"Not yet, missed the 1000 hour visit by just a few minutes," Gibbs told her, "and the next one is still a few minutes away."

"Are we going to get in to see him?" McGee wanted to know.

"Dr. Pitt said we need to keep the number of visitors down to a minimum," Gibbs told him, hedging his answer to the question. He wasn't willing to say yes to McGee until he'd seen Tony for himself, had a chance to assess just how much pain Tony was in, and decide whether Tony could tolerate any visitors, aside from himself.

"But surely he didn't mean…." McGee started to object, and Gibbs was surprised when Ziva jumped in before he could answer McGee.

"Gibbs needs to be the first to see Tony this morning," she told McGee. "He will be able to tell if Tony is able to see the rest of us."

"Yeah, sure, of course," McGee said awkwardly, embarrassed that he'd been that clueless. Of course Tony might not be up to having visitors. 'This is the intensive care unit, after all,' he told himself, as he gave himself an imaginary head slap.

Ziva set the black bag that had hung from her shoulder down on one of the coffee tables. "Abby sent a CD up from her lab with a file on it that contains that recording of Templeton talking to Tony. That is why I brought your lap top for you," she said, gesturing to the table where the bag sat. "I did not know what you wanted to do with it, but Abby said you seemed to be in a hurry to have it, so I brought it."

Gibbs nodded his thanks, too worried about his impending visit with Tony to give the recording much thought. That could wait. He wasn't even sure what he had originally intended to do with it. He knew he wanted Fornell to hear it, but that was as far as his plan had gone. He'd give it more thought once he knew Tony was as okay as he could be at the moment. They had just begun to discuss what Abby had discovered that morning about Phelps and Cooper when a nurse appeared at the door to let them know that up to two people could go in to see Tony now.

"It'll just be me," Gibbs informed her, as he set both coffee cups on a side table and turned to follow her out into the actual ward, leaving McGee and Ziva behind.

When Gibbs got to his room, Tony was lying in the bed with his eyes closed. The tightness around his eyes told Gibbs he was awake; had he been asleep, his face would have been more relaxed. "Hey" he said quietly. Upon hearing Gibbs' voice, Tony's eyes flew open, and Gibbs could see him make a concerted effort to hide the fact that he was in pain. Even without being able to clearly see Tony's mouth, Gibbs knew he was wearing that big, phony grin he put on when he didn't want anyone to know what he was really thinking or feeling. Unfortunately for Tony, that grin never quite made it all the way up to his eyes, and since those were the features most prominent on Tony's face at the moment, his pretense was less than effective. 'So much for Brad's theory that he doesn't show bravado around me,' Gibbs thought silently. Stepping closer, Gibbs reached out, and gently cupped Tony's cheek. "You holding up okay?" he asked, as his hand rubbed along the soft skin that was now covered in light stubble.

Tony pressed his face into Gibbs' hand as he nodded his head.

"You don't need to pretend for me, Tony," Gibbs told him quietly, as his fingers brushed the hair off Tony's forehead. "Brad told me they had to increase the amount of pain meds you were receiving, and that even with them, you are in world of pain. Nothing to be ashamed of, you know."

When Gibbs stopped talking, Tony began to respond, the mask once again making his words indecipherable. Realizing that Gibbs wasn't catching what he was saying, Tony started to rub his face against the pillow again, succeeding in dislodging the mask even before Gibbs could reach down and slide it off for him. Apparently he'd gotten good at it over the course of the morning. "I don't want to worry you," he told Gibbs hoarsely, now that he knew he would be understood.

"Smiling and pretending everything is fine isn't going to stop me from worrying, Tony," Gibbs sighed. "There's nothing you can do that will prevent that. You're lying in a hospital bed, with both your wrists broken, unable to move your arms, and your back is ripped up and covered in cuts and welts, all because some son of a bitch thought he could use you to get me to back down! Of course I'm going to worry. It's my RIGHT to worry – both as your boss and…and…beyond," he managed to say, after a pause. Then he added, "Don't waste the little energy you have putting on a show for me. I don't need it, and I'm not buying it."

Tony looked up at him, giving him a small, but real smile, with just a hint of his usual mischief shining through, "Beyond? Really, beyond? Beyond what, Gibbs? Beyond belief? Beyond the call of duty? Or maybe, beyond my wildest dreams?"

"Smart ass," Gibbs growled, but the smile he gave Tony took away any sting in his words. He was just about to say more when Tony started to cough again. "Okay, that's it. The mask needs to go back on," he announced.

"Wait," Tony managed to say between coughs, "Just…wait." Gibbs hand hovered above the mask, but he didn't grab it and put it back on Tony. When Tony had the coughs somewhat under control, in a winded voice, he asked, "You never told me. How'd Fornell…. get shot? What…. happened there? You… got… them… right?" By the time he got to the last question, Tony was obviously having difficulty getting enough air, since he was gasping slightly between each word.

"Let me put the mask back on so you can catch your breath while I tell you. I'll take it off again when I'm done for just a second, so you can talk," He slid it back in place slowly when Tony nodded in assent, taking the time to decide just how much he was going to tell Tony. As he straightened a few twists in the straps, he debated whether he should tell Tony that Phelps and Cooper hadn't been caught yet, and as he did so, he realized that Tony had no way of even knowing who all the perps were. He'd already been taken when they had learned about Phelps and DeAngelo. "I'm going to give you a really quick overview on what happened over the last day and a half; we can go over it in more detail when you're a little better, okay?" Again Tony nodded in agreement. He'd been awake on and off for short periods of time all morning long, but hadn't really tried to focus on anything, and now, much as he was loath to admit it, the strain of trying to be alert for Gibbs was beginning to take its toll.

Gibbs started by telling Tony that after he'd been ambushed, Abby and McGee had found a way to pinpoint who the kidnap victims had been once they had realized they were being targeted through FBI files. As he talked, he watched as Tony's eyes became slightly glazed, and his eyelids began to periodically flutter closed. Ignoring it, he went on to explain that they had then isolated who had accessed the files, and had come up with Peter Phelps' name, a retired FBI agent. He hadn't even gotten to the part about receiving the DVD of Tony's torture before Tony lost his battle to stay awake, and his eyes slowly closed a final time. "Just as well, Tony, the next bit wasn't pretty anyway," Gibbs told the sleeping man. "Sleep now, the story can wait." Glancing at his watch, he saw that he only had a few minutes left to visit, and he contented himself with softly running his fingers through Tony's hair a few times, and listening as Tony's breathing began to even back out.

Ziva and McGee both looked up at him when he got back to the waiting room. He knew they were expecting an update on Tony's condition. While he stood beside Tony's bed, watching his exhausted and pain weakened lover sleep, he'd given some thought as to what he was going to tell them. "Look, I know you both want to go in to see him, and I'm positive Abby will be expecting to do just that when she gets here, but everyone's just going to have to wait another day. He's too weak for visitors, even though he'd rather chop off an arm than admit it. He wasn't even able to stay awake for the whole ten minutes. He's got an oxygen mask on, which makes it kinda hard to have a conversation. You know DiNozzo, he loves to talk, and he keeps trying to take off the damned mask so he can, but every time he does that, he ends up having a coughing fit. No point in making it more tempting for him," Gibbs told them.

McGee was ashamed when he realized that he was actually slightly relieved by what Gibbs had just decreed. He had spent all last night trying unsuccessfully to erase the picture of Tony, lying on that cot in a pool of blood, from his mind. In the early morning hours, when he'd finally managed to fall asleep, his rest had been disrupted by nightmares, thanks to that damn DVD. There were variations, but they all featured Tony, chained and being whipped. He'd startled awake from each one of them, thinking he'd heard Tony screaming his name, and asking him to help him. When he'd gotten to the hospital this morning, he'd thought that seeing Tony, cleaned up and being cared for, would banish the unpleasant images. As he'd sat there, waiting for Gibbs to return from his visit, he'd grown uneasy and hesitant. He was never good in situations like this, never knew quite what to say, and somehow, the things he did say, never managed to sound like he'd intended them to sound. He was saved from answering, since Ziva was busy assuring Gibbs she understood, and McGee was able to get by with just nodding his head in agreement.

Gibbs gave a silent sigh of relief, thankful that they were both willing to accept his assessment without argument. "We've got another hour until the next visiting session; I'm going to go check on Langer. They moved him to a step down unit yesterday. Do either of you want to go with me?"

McGee and Ziva both shook their heads. Neither of them knew Langer very well, having only met him a couple of times, briefly. "We will stay here, in case the doctors or nurses need to speak with someone about Tony. If they should come out while you are gone, I will be sure to call you," Ziva told Gibbs.

"That'll work," Gibbs said, as he went over to grab the coffee cup that McGee had brought to him when he'd arrived. It might not be hot anymore, but it was far warmer than the one the nurse had brought him. Then he headed for the door, on his way to see Brent.

Morgan was in Langer's room visiting, and both men were chuckling quietly about something when Gibbs got there. 'It's good to see Langer smiling,' Gibbs thought, as he walked into the room. The last time he's seen him, he'd still been unconscious and fighting for his life up in ICU. 'It's amazing how fast things can change,' he thought, wishing Tony's recovery would be as fast, even though he knew that wasn't realistic. "What's so funny?" he asked, as he approached Brent's bed.

"Gibbs!" Langer said with a smile. "We were just talking about NCIS. Morgan was telling me about Abby decking Liz. I know I should be horrified by the whole thing, but for some reason, it just makes me laugh. Abby punched me in the arm plenty of times when I was still working for you, but I never thought she'd really go after someone. I always thought the most dangerous thing about her was the possibility that she might spontaneously combust one day, when her body overheated from trying to process all the caffeine she was pouring into it. I'm sorry to have missed it. Always knew Templeton's mouth was going to get her into trouble one day. Even tried to tell her that once, but she couldn't understand what I was talking about. Maybe she gets it now."

"I wouldn't bet on that," Gibbs muttered darkly. Then, not wanting to ruin Langer's good mood, he managed to set thoughts of Liz aside for the moment and dredged up a smile. "Abs has one hell of shiner this morning. It kind of enhances her whole Mistress of the Dark look. Gives her a whole new edge. I'm sure you'll get to see it for yourself. She had a few things to finish up in the lab this morning, but I expect she'll be over here by mid-afternoon. You can pretty much count on a visit from her."

"I'll be looking forward to that," Langer told him. "Abby always makes me smile." Then, sobering up some, he added, "I'm really sorry Tony got hurt, Gibbs. How's he doing this morning?"

"Hanging in there. He's a little better today, even though the pain is worse, and they've got him pretty drugged up right now. Once they start weaning him off the pain meds, he'll start to get restless, and then they're really going to have problems. I may have to sic Abby on him to make him behave," Gibbs joked, wanting to try and restore Brent's lightheartedness. He didn't need to be worrying about anyone else right now. Brent might be out of the ICU, but he still had a ways to go before he was completely out of the woods. He was going to need a sense of humor to help him through the next few days, Gibbs knew, as he took in all the IVs he was still hooked up to, and the nasal cannula he was wearing.

Brent smiled at Gibbs' comment, and was about to answer, when they were interrupted by a large, formidable looking older nurse, who came bustling into the room. "Time to leave, gentlemen," she told them. "Mr. Langer and I have a date that includes a sponge bath and a lot of gauze and surgical tape, and I don't perform for an audience. You can come back a little later." When Morgan and Gibbs didn't make any signs of immediately moving, she barked, "You heard me, SCAT."

Morgan gave her a mock salute, and said, "Yes Ma'am." He looked over at Langer and said, "I'll catch you later. I'm going to see Fornell for a couple of minutes, and then I've got to get back to the office, anyway. Want to come with me?" he asked Gibbs, as they both stepped out of the nurse's way.

"Sure. I've got time," Gibbs answered, then looked at Langer, and offered one of his genuine smiles, one that reached all the way to his eyes. "Good to see you getting better, Brent. I'll stop back later."

Langer nodded, but his attention was on the nurse, so Gibbs and Morgan headed out the door.

As they were walking down the hall towards the elevators, Gibbs snorted when Morgan said, "You know, Fornell was right. It would have been easier if they just gave us our own wing in this damned hospital. We've got agents spread out over four floors now.

When they got to the door of Fornell's room, they paused, as the sound of two voices raised in anger wafted out through the cracked door. Listening harder, Gibbs and Morgan could make out AD Marshall's and Fornell's voices. Marshall was saying, "I don't care if you feel fine Tobias. The doctor said you needed to stay in here for at least one more day."

"And I already told you, this isn't the first gunshot wound I've had, and I would know if it was going to give me any trouble. Morgan's going to interrogate the prisoners today, and I need to be there. I don't need two good arms to run an interrogation," Fornell snapped at Marshall.

Gibbs looked over at Morgan and smirked. "Been there myself before," he told him. "Doctors get pissed when you check yourself out 'Against Medical Advice'. So do bosses."

"He really would be better staying an extra day," Morgan told Gibbs, over the background noise of the argument in the room. "He's not going to admit it, but the doctor said the bullet ripped through a lot of nerves and muscle, and that it was going to take time to heal. He even told Tobias that he might have to have physical therapy."

"Let's see what happens. Maybe Marshall will win," Gibbs told him, as he pushed the door open and went in.

Fornell and Marshall fell silent when the other two men entered. "Tobias," Gibbs said. "You don't look too bad….for an old bastard. How are you feeling?"

Glaring at Marshall, Fornell said, "I'd be feeling a lot better if I wasn't stuck in here. There are things I need to do on this case."

"Why are you in such a big rush to get out, Tobias? The paperwork will still be there waiting for you when you get back. Or you can do what I do, get Morgan to do it for you. DiNozzo's real good at doing mine," Gibbs smirked.

"Yeah? So who's going to do it for you right now?" Fornell muttered ill temperedly.

"Went in and did it myself, this morning. Jenny gave the team the next two days off, since you all are taking over the case. Didn't want it hanging over my head," Gibbs told him.

"You're off for two days?" Fornell said thoughtfully. Looking over at Marshall he said, "You know, if Gibbs was willing, he could help Morgan conduct those interviews. They just work better if you've got two people doing 'em, and with Merit and Langer both laid up, Ed doesn't have any experienced help. Gibbs knows the case better than anyone else we've got. Then maybe I'd be willing to stay here until tomorrow."

"What about it, Gibbs?" Marshall asked. "Can you give me a few hours this afternoon? Fornell really needs to keep his ass planted in that bed."

Gibbs realized Fornell had just played him. He didn't want to go over to the Bureau for a few hours, he wanted to stay here, waiting impatiently for his meager ten minutes an hour visits with Tony. Of course, he also wanted to make sure they pulled every last piece of information out of the scumbags that they could. Phelps and Cooper couldn't be allowed to get away. He was silent as he weighed out his options. Finally he sighed and said, "Tell you what – I'll go over there and help Morgan with Barker and that woman. My guess is the others are just hired help. But if I do this, I get to be lead. I need to get it done quick, and I can guarantee you that I'll make them tell us everything they know, real fast."

"Deal," Marshall said, knowing he wasn't really in any position to argue. He supposed he could call Jenny, and ask that she order Gibbs to assist the Bureau, but that wasn't the way to foster a good working relationship with a brother organization. There was no denying that NCIS had gone above and beyond for them, even going so far as to allow the FBI to take all the credit for the operation. "What time were you planning on starting?" he asked Morgan.

"They were going to be transported from the local hospital over to Headquarters at around 1400," Morgan answered. "How does 1500 work for you?" he asked Gibbs.

"Yeah, the sooner the better," Gibbs sighed in resignation.

"You going to be here?" Morgan asked him.

"Where else?" Gibbs said.

"I'll call you if we get them there sooner," he promised.

"You can do something for me," Gibbs said then, as he remembered the CD Abby had sent along. "All three of you. I've got a CD Abby made of a recorded conversation between DiNozzo and Templeton that you need to hear. That woman's out of control and I want your promise that she'll have to face a Disciplinary Committee hearing. She's got attitude and authority issues, but disobeying a direct order, and entering a shoot-out without announcing her presence are both punishable offenses. You do that for me, since I'm doing your interviews for you."

Marshall shot a look to Fornell which wordlessly ordered him to remain silent. Marshall had already confirmed Gibbs' accusations of the night before with Fornell before Gibbs and Morgan had arrived. Together, they had decided that Templeton did need to be called up before the Committee, but Gibbs didn't need to know that, not if Marshall could finagle it so that Gibbs felt that he owed him a favor. As a politician, Marshall knew you could never have too many people who believed they owed you one, and he suspected that Gibbs rarely allowed himself to be put in that position. This was an opportunity not to be missed. "That's a pretty big step," he told the senior NCIS agent.

"Not really," Gibbs snapped. "She went off the reservation Marshall, and you can't let that go unchecked. Next time, instead of a bullet to the shoulder, it could be a lot worse. No one wants a partner they can't trust. That's how you end up dead." Then Gibbs added something that pretty well foiled Marshall's plans. "You won't be doing me a favor, Marshall; you'll be doing a favor for anyone who is unlucky enough to have to work with her in the future."

"Hmpfh," Marshall said. "Suppose you're right. Yeah, she's going to have to face the music. So, where's this CD you say you have?"

"Upstairs, in the waiting room of ICU," Gibbs answered.

"Morgan, go up with Gibbs and get it. I'll take it back with me, and listen to it when I get to the office," Marshall announced. Shaking his head, he added, "That woman's mouth is going to be her downfall."

"It's not her mouth that's the problem," Gibbs grunted. "It's her brain. She doesn't see things straight. Don't think you'll be able to fix that, but that's your problem now, not mine. Tobias, I'll come see you later this evening. You make sure you're still here," Gibbs ordered.

Fornell scowled at him, and then saluted and snidely said, "Sir, yes Sir!"

Smirking, Gibbs turned to leave. "I'm not a fucking officer. Come on Morgan," he ordered as he began to walk out.

"No, you're a fucking dictator," Fornell called out to Gibbs' departing backside.


	27. Chapter 27

"**A Friend in Need" – Chapter Twenty-Seven**

McGee and Ziva were no longer alone in the waiting room when Gibbs and Morgan got back up there. Apparently Ducky and Palmer had arrived while he'd been gone, bringing nourishment with them. The table now held a large carton of orange juice and a gallon sized 'to go' container of coffee from Gibbs' favorite caffeine pusher, along with a bag of bagels and small containers of various types of creamed cheese, as well as an assortment of cut up fruits and vegetables. Coffee condiments, plastic cups, plastic utensils, napkins and paper plates had been placed beside the offerings of food, and his team was gratefully munching away. Looking around, Gibbs located where his computer bag had been set aside, and he quickly went over to it, opening up the side pocket and withdrawing the CD for Morgan, while the FBI agent quietly chatted with the others. Handing it to him, Gibbs said, "Think this'll surprise you. It's pretty brutal, even for Templeton. If she were my agent, I'd kick her ass to the curb so fast she'd have to _run _to catch up to it. But that's your call."

"Guess thanks isn't really the right thing to say," Morgan took the disk, "but I'm not sure what would be, under the circumstances. I'll listen to it as soon as I get back to the office, and then send it up to Marshall. See you at 1500?"

"Yeah, I'll be there. We're going to get it done quick," Gibbs told him. "I need to be here."

"Understood. Can't tell you how much I appreciate this, Gibbs," Morgan said.

"Not a problem. Just make sure they're there and ready by the time I get over there, and we'll be good," Gibbs said.

After Morgan had left, Ducky, with an eyebrow raised in disapproval asked, "What was that about? What are you planning to do this afternoon?" Before Gibbs could answer, he'd guided Gibbs away from the others, and said insistently, "Tony must be frightened, as well as in pain, Jethro. I would have thought that by now you'd _understand_ that you belonged here."

"I do, Duck. Believe me, I get it. But with Fornell laid up, Morgan doesn't have anyone familiar with the case to help him with the interrogations, and Fornell was threatening to check himself out AMA so he could do it. I told Tobias I'd run Barker's and Jillian Marshall's interviews if he stayed here, but that's all. They're on their own with the hired muscle. I'm _not_ gonna let these interviews get half-assed though. I want that bastard Phelps and Cooper FOUND, and I'm NOT willing to take the chance that some valuable piece of information gets missed because no one asked the right questions! Don't worry Ducky; I'll have everything we need to know in less than an hour, one way or another. Then, I'll be right back here with Tony." Changing the subject, Gibbs asked hopefully, "Are you staying here for the afternoon?" While he was over at the Hoover building, Ducky would be able to hold down the fort here, making sure that things stayed relatively calm, since there was no way Abby wouldn't be here by 1500. Gibbs knew that unless she was watched, she'd find a way to wheedle her way into Tony's room. Although Abby always had good intentions, she could be a bit overwhelming at the best of times, and Tony most definitely wasn't in any shape to deal with her today.

"I had planned to stay here. Jenny sent both Jimmy and myself home for the day," Ducky answered. "Why? Is there something you'd rather I be doing?"

"No, that's great actually," Gibbs said. "I'd feel better if you were here, just in case."

"How is Tony this morning?" Ducky asked. "Ziva and Timothy were saying that you thought it best if everyone waited until tomorrow to go in and see him."

"He's weak and in a lot of pain," Gibbs told his friend. "They had to put him on strong pain meds, and Pitt said it'd be better if Tony reserved his energy for dealing with the pain and the bronchitis. He's still on an oxygen mask, so conversation's more than a little difficult. Course, that doesn't stop him from trying. He's figured out how to rub the mask off his face, since he can't use his hands, and that just makes him cough more."

"As much as we'd all like to see Tony with our own eyes, that's just us being selfish; his well being and speedy recovery are much more important. Judging from what you just told me, that sounds like a most responsible call, Jethro," Ducky told him. "I'm sure everyone understands that."

"Really? Ya think _Abs_ is going to understand that, Ducky?" Gibbs said sarcastically. "Last time I checked, she wasn't noted for being reasonable. Brilliant, loyal, loving - _yes_. Reasonable, patient, rational – _no._ Maybe _you'd_ like to be the one to break it to her?" he asked.

"Well, I would Jethro, but I would be loathe to do anything which might undermine your position as _team leader_," Ducky said with exaggerated courtesy.

"Your concern 'almost' touches me, Ducky. You just don't want to end up with a broken nose, too. That would make it harder to stick it where it _doesn't _belong," Gibbs joked, causing them both to chuckle.

Across the room, McGee looked up from the coffee he was drinking with a start. 'How can they be laughing?' he wondered, when Tony was lying in an ICU room somewhere nearby, having almost _died._ Suddenly, for some inexplicable reason, he was _mad._ There wasn't _anything_ funny about the situation, and a sense of protectiveness towards Tony, that he hadn't even realized he possessed, emerged. "I can't believe the Boss is over there laughing," he hissed at Ziva. "I thought he was _worried _about Tony!"

That outburst had been so uncharacteristic of him, Ziva looked at the expression on his face in surprise. McGee almost never said anything disparaging about Gibbs, and she'd never seen him show overt anger towards their boss. "Gibbs is concerned about Tony, Tim. Trust me; _no one_ could possibly be more worried than Gibbs, not even Abby. But sitting around, doing nothing but wrenching one's hands, is not going to make Tony get better any faster. Everyone needs a break from the tension once in a while," she said to him.

"Wringing one's hands, Ziva," McGee corrected her, his mouth on autopilot, as he tried to make sense of everything for himself. Ziva was right, of course. He knew that, just as the more rational part of his brain knew that Gibbs was very worried about Tony. But for some reason, he'd been having trouble keeping everything in perspective ever since he'd walked into that basement yesterday, which was unusual. At one time or another over the years, they'd all been wounded when working a case, although _Tony_ seemed to be a virtual trouble magnet.

He'd been drugged and kidnapped, knocked unconscious innumerable times, and who but Tony could manage to contract the plague? If he was a cat, he'd have long ago used up his nine lives. But this time - this time McGee had thought he really was going to die, and Tim wasn't sure what would have happened if Tony had. Kate's dying had been bad, worse than bad, but he'd made it through it, with a lot of help from Tony, he suddenly realized, as he tried to work it all out for himself. Who would help him make it through losing Tony? 'Abby?' he wondered, immediately rejecting that idea. Abby would be too devastated herself to be able to give anyone else any support. He couldn't picture Ziva picking up the pieces, either. Oh, she'd be sad, but she'd carry on stoically, ever the good soldier, and he couldn't see her doing what Tony had done. Ziva wouldn't suddenly start suggesting the occasional pizza and movie night, or pull some preposterously elaborate practical joke when the team's tension levels had reached critical mass. If anything, Ziva was more likely to revert back to the cold, emotionless Mossad assassin she'd been when she first started working with NCIS.

Then there was Gibbs; how would Gibbs react? Looking over to where Ducky and Gibbs stood, he realized they had stopped laughing at some point during his ruminations. He could see Ducky standing beside Gibbs, talking so quietly to Gibbs that he was almost whispering, as he rested a hand on Gibbs' shoulder. McGee looked at them more closely. He couldn't hear what was being said, but there was no mistaking the fact that Ducky was offering Gibbs comfort, and Gibbs, who looked brittle and exhausted, was willingly accepting it. Suddenly everything Ziva had been saying, and he'd been subconsciously observing for two days, crystallized for him in a blinding revelation. With shocking clarity, McGee realized Gibbs wouldn't survive Tony's dying. Oh, he wouldn't keel over dead, but the Gibbs they all knew, the Gibbs they all took for granted, would be gone, and McGee knew he didn't want to see what would be left. _Gibbs loved Tony!_

If Gibbs loved Tony, then, by extension, it made sense that _Tony _must also_ love Gibbs!_ When had that happened? How was it that Ziva seemingly knew, and yet he'd completely missed it?!? Judging from what he'd just witnessed, he assumed that Ducky must know, and McGee had no doubt that Abby did, too. So why hadn't he? What kind of investigator _misses _the fact that one of his partners and his boss are together? Christ, what had Gibbs thought, when he and Ziva had ribbed Tony about all his girlfriends, and his inability to resist flirting with everything in a skirt, under the age of forty? What about Tony, how had _he _felt when they'd sat and tried to figure out what all had gone on between Gibbs and Director Shepard once upon a time, and how Col. Mann fit into the picture? Had it hurt? Had he been jealous? Maybe this was a new development, and it didn't matter, McGee tried to tell himself, but the more he thought about it, the less he believed that to be true. No, actually, the signs were all there, once you knew what to look for, and they'd been there for years.

Gibbs was always most comfortable when Tony had his six, and Tony, well Tony would lay down his life without a second thought to save Gibbs. McGee remembered when Gibbs and that childhood friend of Kelly's had ended up trapped in a car in the waterway. Tony had dove into the frigid water, knocked out a window with superhuman strength, and managed to get them both out. When Tony had been accused of murder, Gibbs hadn't even taken one moment to consider the possibility that it could be true, not even when everyone, including Abby, was beginning to worry. When Gibbs was his most unreasonable, it was _always_ Tony who took it upon himself to deal with their boss, shielding the others from the worst of Gibbs' temper, to the best of his ability. It even explained why Abby never seemed remotely interested in Tony in 'that way', despite the fact that he made her laugh, and was undeniably handsome. McGee had always wondered about that, especially after he and Abby had started their on again, off again, whatever you wanted to call it.

Unable to resist, McGee stole another look at Gibbs and Ducky, who were still talking, although Ducky's hand was no longer on Gibbs' shoulder. When he looked away, he found Ziva watching him closely. As their eyes locked, she gave a little smirk. "When did you figure…." he demanded, only to be interrupted by Ziva, who shot her eyes over to Palmer and gave a little, almost imperceptible shake of her head.

"Gibbs," Ziva called across the room. "McGee and I are going to go down to the gift store to pick up a few newspapers and newer magazines so there is something in here for people to look at when they stop by today." Gibbs looked at her in confusion, and then just waved his hand at her in a distracted fashion. When it looked as if Palmer was going to invite himself along, Ziva said, "I think you should stay here, Jimmy. Gibbs will be going in to see Tony soon, and someone should be here with Ducky. Today is not a good day to leave anyone all alone, do you not agree?" Her contention left Palmer no real choice but to agree.

It was through sheer willpower that McGee was able to wait until they'd reached the elevators before he rounded on Ziva and exclaimed, "How long have you known, and _why _in the hell didn't you tell _me_?"

Ziva gave an evil little chuckle before she reached out and patted him patronizingly on the cheek and said, "Relax Tim. I have not known that long. They have been very secretive, I think, since neither one of us suspected."

"So then, how did…." McGee began to ask again.

"Friday night," Ziva said, "when I took Courtney over to Gibbs for help, Tony was there, and I could tell he had not just dropped in for a casual visit."

"How did you know _that_? You know what? Never mind, I don't _want _to know. More importantly, do THEY know you know?" McGee asked.

"I do not know about Gibbs, although I am sure he does, since Tony knows. Tony could tell the minute I worked it out for myself; I fear I may have not hidden it well. He asked me if I was going to have a problem with it, and I assured him it was fine. I meant that. Will it be a problem for _you_, Tim?" Ziva asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No, not really. I just hate being clueless, makes me feel stupid. I've been trying to figure out how long they've been together, and I keep coming back to the idea that it's been going on for a long, long time. Surely I should have caught on before now. Tony's not exactly subtle," McGee shook his head, disgusted with his own naivety.

"Do not underestimate Tony, McGee," Ziva warned him. "We see what Tony wants us to see, and often, no more. Sharing information is a funny thing. When you seem to tell people _everything_ about your life, even more than they want to know, they never wonder about what you are withholding. I think that Tony has become a master at that, no?"

McGee looked at her in wonder. Who would have expected Ziva to understand human psychology so well? He wasn't used to seeing the philosophical side of her, that wasn't her role on the team, and therefore, not something she shared. Ever since Kate had died, it was either Ducky or Tony that provided profiles on their suspects when needed. For the second time that day, McGee found himself wanting to slap his own head. TONY provided profiles – and he was good at it, damned good. If Tony was really as emotionally shallow as he pretended to be, he wouldn't be very good at profiling, now, would he? 'Arghhh,' he thought. He'd shaped his whole perception of his teammates on false assumptions and sweeping generalization. 'Who is the shallow one now?' he asked himself.

Ziva must have sensed some of what he was thinking because she smiled at him, and in a kind, but amused voice she said, "It was not just you, Tim. We have all been guilty of not looking too closely at Tony."

"All except Gibbs," McGee said.

"That is not quite true," Ziva corrected him. "I suspect Abby and Ducky have also seen much more of the 'real' Tony, than either you or I."

"Yeah, well, not any more," McGee said. "From now on, I'm going to pay more attention to what Tony says and does. Going to try and be a better friend."

"Be careful what you promise, McGee. It may not be that easy. I am beginning to think that Tony is as private a person as Gibbs. He just has a different, how do you say it, style, yes, he just has a different style. I do not believe that he does not think of you as a good friend. I think it is more a matter of him not wanting to let us down. He does not want to appear weak. He would not want you to treat him any differently; that is most likely why he has worked so hard to keep this a secret," she cautioned.

"You're probably right," McGee conceded. "Okay, so no change in the way we treat Tony. But at least now we know to look a little deeper, every time he blithely assures us he's 'fine' when anything happens."

"Agreed." They'd been standing in front of the elevator doors for quite a while. When they opened up once more, Ziva said, "Come, we must really get the magazines and newspapers I told Gibbs we were going for, or he will know something is down."

"Up, something is up," McGee said with a smile, as he followed her onto the down elevator.

**xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxo**

Abby descended on the waiting room a little after one o'clock like a hurricane, all dark clouds and deafening winds. Gibbs had just gotten back from his latest visit with Tony, which had been less than satisfying, as Tony had been asleep the whole time. He was sitting in one of the chairs, holding up the morning edition of the Washington Post without really focusing on the words in front of him, when she clomped into the room, and threw herself at him, screeching his name as she pushed the paper out of her way and landed on his lap. "So, how's Tony?" she asked him.

"About the same as he was the last four times you called to ask, Abs," Gibbs told her with a tolerant smile. He wasn't about to start off on the wrong foot with her, not when he knew how she was going to react when he informed her that no one was going to in to see Tony today.

"Well, he'll be doing much better once I get in there to cheer him up," she beamed at Gibbs. Palmer, McGee, Ziva and Ducky, who were all sitting nearby winced and exchanged a series of covert glances that were not lost on Abby.

"Mr. Palmer, would you be so kind as to go off in search of a cup of tea for me?" Ducky asked, hoping to shield his assistant from the storm that was about to erupt. "Perhaps you'd like Ziva and McGee to fetch you some fresh coffee?" he suggested to Gibbs.

"Good idea Duck," he said, giving his team members a meaningful look.

"Um, oh, yeah, um right," McGee stuttered, "Fresh coffee coming up. Wait for us, Jimmy. Come on Ziva," he said, as they both rose and hurried towards the door.

Abby suspiciously watched the exodus from the room with narrowed eyes, from her perch on Gibbs' lap. Once the others were safely away she turned to Ducky and asked, "Aren't _you_ going to run away too?"

Ducky laughed. "No I think I'd best stay here, just in case Jethro needs my professional help."

"Alright, spill it Mister! Normally I'd be afraid that you had bad news about Tony to tell me, but I doubt Ducky would be joking if that were the case," she said, glaring at Gibbs.

"No, no bad news, but it _does_ involve Tony," Gibbs told her.

Abby looked at him in confusion. If the news was about Tony, and it wasn't bad news, then why had Ducky felt it necessary to send everyone else away?

"I told you earlier that Tony was slowly getting better, and he is Abs," Gibbs began, "but he's still in really bad shape."

"I know that Gibbs, don't worry, you don't need to prepare me. I've seen Tony in bad shape before. I can take it," she interrupted him to assure him.

"Let me finish, Abby," Gibbs admonished her gently. "I know you're able to deal with Tony when he's in rough shape, but that isn't the issue today. _Tony's_ not up to dealing with _you_, today. Actually, he's not up to dealing with _anyone_ today, the pain is just too much for it. _No one's_ going in there to see him today, except me."

"THAT'S NOT FAIR!" Abby shrieked.

"Not _interested_ in being fair, Abs," Gibbs told her. "I'm interested in making sure Tony gets the rest he needs to get better, and he isn't going to do that if he feels like he has to entertain visitors."

"He doesn't need to entertain me. _I'll_ entertain him," Abby insisted. "_I want to see him_!" she said, pushing herself off his lap, and stood in front of him, glaring, her arms crossed in front of her chest.

He looked at her, and wondered when she was going to start stomping her feet. Right at the moment she reminded him more of Kelly, in the middle of a major temper tantrum, than a full grown woman. Deciding that if she was going to _behave _like an eight year old, he'd _treat_ her like one, he said sternly, "And I said NO, so this discussion is OVER!"

Sure enough, Abby stomped her foot in anger, then began to pace around the room, arms flailing as she steamed. "Tony's going to be expecting me! I ALWAYS come to see him when he's in the hospital and I HAVE NEVER done anything to slow down his getting better. I can't even believe you would THINK I could. _You _don't have proprietary rights over Tony, you know. You're just being _selfish_!"

"Abigail Scuito, _stop it this instant_, or _I _will turn you over my knee and _spank you_ like the child you're behaving as!" Ducky's voice cut into her tirade. Her last remarks had been it for him.

Stunned, Abby turned to stare at him, mouth hanging wide open. Ducky had _never_ raised his voice to her before.

"That's better. Now close your mouth," Ducky ordered. "If you had given Jethro a chance to finish, I am sure he would have told you that _Dr. Pitt_ was the one who advised keeping Tony's visitors to a minimum today, as he is having a great deal of difficulty controlling the pain. Do you think Tony would want _you_, or anyone else for that matter, to see him in pain? Would you really rather he spend his_ last ounce of energy_ trying to hide his pain from you, _instead_ of using it to get better? I think it is _you _who is being selfish, Abby," he told her in a firm voice.

As Ducky's words sank in, Abby's bottom lip began to tremble, and her eyes filled with tears. "Ducky's right. I'm _so sorry_ Gibbs," Abby said in a quivering voice, as she rushed over to where he stood, and wrapped her arms around him. "I wasn't thinking clearly. I'm so sorry. _Please_ don't be mad at me."

Gibbs returned Abby's embrace, and looked over her head, which was buried in his chest, to give Ducky a grateful nod of thanks. "I'm not mad at you. I know you just want to see Tony because you care so much for him. He knows that Abs, whether you're in there with him, or not. Besides, what have I told you about saying sorry?"

"I know, I know, it's a sign of weakness. But sometimes a person just has to apologize, Gibbs, weakness or not. And I was _way _out of line, so I AM sorry. I don't want to do anything that would slow down Tony's getting better, you know that," Abby said, her voice muffled by his body.

Anything more that might have been said on the subject was lost when there was a gentle rap on the doorframe, and Gibbs turned, still holding Abby, and saw Balboa standing in the doorway, a large plastic bag in his hand, watching them hesitantly. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything," he said tentatively, as he took in Abby's black eye, and tear streaked face.

"Nah, its okay Balboa. Come on in," Gibbs said to him.

"If you're sure," Balboa said, stepping into the room. "I just wanted stop by and drop off some cookies and brownies that my wife made, and to check on Tony," he said, starting to hand the bag to Gibbs, then realizing the senior agent couldn't very well take it while he still had Abby in his arms, he placed it on a chair. "He's still doing okay isn't he?" Balboa asked, concerned by the fact that Abby was in tears, and seemed to be having some sort of mini breakdown.

"Yeah, he is. It's just going to take a lot of time," Gibbs said. "Appreciate you coming by to check, and bringing the food."

"It doesn't seem like much, but, well, you know," Balboa's voice trailed off. Every time he had to go to the hospital to check on a fellow agent, he was reminded of how dangerous their jobs really were. It could just as easily be himself, or one of his own team members in that ICU bed, and moments like this drove that fact home. "Dobbs asked me to tell you he'd be by this evening, and for you to call if you wanted him to bring anything with him, and you should probably expect a bunch of other visitors, too," he warned.

"Figured," Gibbs answered. "The room will probably start to look like a snack bar by the end of the night."

Balboa stayed and visited for a while, and eventually Palmer, Ziva and McGee made a cautious re-entry into the room, armed with tea, coffee and a Caf-Pow! for Abby, and everyone settled back into waiting mode. When two o'clock rolled round, Gibbs excused himself, and went in to see Tony.

Tony was awake this time, since the dressings on his back and legs had just been changed. A nurse was just finishing up when Gibbs entered the room. After telling Gibbs that they'd just administered more pain medications, and that Tony might well fall back to sleep, she quietly left. Once she was gone, Gibbs moved closer to the bed, and slid the oxygen mask off of Tony's face.

"You might get in trouble for doing that, Boss," Tony told him with a weak smile.

"I'm willing to take my chances," Gibbs answered, as he studied Tony. There was a light coating of perspiration on his face, and Gibbs guessed that it was a result of Tony trying to deal with the discomfort of having his wounds redressed. His eyes were slightly glassy and unfocused. Looking over at the small table next to the bed, he spotted a box of tissues, from which he withdrew one, and used it to gently pat away the sweat on Tony's brow. "You behaving yourself?" he asked as he worked.

"Trying to. It's hard, though. You know me," Tony said, "always looking for a way to make trouble."

"See that you do_, be_ _good_ that is," Gibbs responded, the gruffness of the order undermined by the fact that his fingers were softly tracing along the hairline on Tony's face. "Breathing sounds better," he observed as he continued to caress Tony's face.

"Yeah, Brad was in here right before they started their last torture session, and said he was pleased with the way I was responding to the medicine. Even told me we could probably move to a nasal cannula tomorrow. Said if that went well, I'd be on my way to the step down unit in no time," Tony said, allowing his eyes to close as he savored the feel of Gibbs' fingers on his skin.

"Umm hmm," Gibbs said. "Lots of people want to come see you, but I'm putting 'em off 'til tomorrow. Today you just need to concentrate on resting, and fighting the bronchitis – which means wearing that damned oxygen mask."

"Hate it," Tony said. He hadn't opened his eyes again yet, and his voice was starting to slur slightly.

"Tony, need you to listen to me for a second," Gibbs said with a bit more force, wanting to make sure Tony absorbed what he needed to tell him. "I'm not going to be here for the next visiting hour. I've got to go over to the FBI and help interrogate the prisoners, but I should be back soon. You take the time to sleep."

"Never finished……telling me…….at Calverton," Tony managed to say, although sleep was luring him under.

"I will when I get back, promise," Gibbs said, and slid his hand up until it was buried in Tony's soft, silky hair. Tony didn't answer, although he moved his head a fraction, as if acknowledging Gibbs' caress. Gibbs reached over and placed the face mask back over Tony, and when Tony offered no resistance, Gibbs knew he was once again asleep.

Gibbs stood running his fingers through Tony's hair, watching as the thick strands slid between his fingers with each pass of his hand until a nurse finally appeared and told him that time was up. Sighing, he took one last look at Tony and headed for the waiting room.

"I'm heading over to the Hoover Building," Gibbs informed them when he got there. "Maybe Morgan got Barker and Marshall there early and we can get this done even sooner. Ducky, you hold down the fort. If anything new happens with Tony, give me a call. I doubt if this'll take more than an hour once I get going, so I shouldn't be gone long."

"Don't bother holding back any, Bossman," Abby told him with a cold glint in her eyes.

"I don't intend to," Gibbs promised her.

**xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox**

Morgan was sitting at his desk, his head resting on the palm of his hand, looking very unhappy, when Gibbs finally worked his way through the security at FBI Headquarters. When he saw Gibbs approaching, he took a deep breath, knowing the NCIS agent wasn't going to like what he had to tell him one little bit. "Gibbs," he greeted the older man. "Pull up a chair," he said, indicating the chair that sat to the right of his desk.

"Barker and Marshall here yet?" Gibbs asked as he sat down.

"Not yet. Listen, one of our forensic people brought a tape up to me a little while ago that they found in a desk out at Calverton. It's one of those little ones from a miniature recorder. He thought I'd want to hear it right away, and he was right. You need to listen to it too, before we start the interview."

"Wasn't fond of the _last_ recording I listened to," Gibbs told him.

"Yeah well, you aren't going to be any fonder of this one. And a word of warning, it features the _same_ _person_ as the last one," Morgan cautioned.

Gibbs cursed quietly under his breath, as Morgan slid the small tape recorder that sat on his desk closer to Gibbs and pressed 'Play'. Liz's voice blared out at them. Both men sat and listened, as Liz described Gibbs' and his team's reaction to the DVD recording of Tony's torture to DeAngelo. Even though DeAngelo's words were measured and controlled, to their trained ears they could hear the panic that underlay every question the man asked of her, and it was also clear that Liz had been so caught up in her own worries that she hadn't suspected a thing. When the tape was over Morgan pressed 'Stop' and looked over at Gibbs, who was sitting rigid, his hands clenched into tight fists and resting on his thighs.

"God DAMN it!" Gibbs swore.

"She didn't give away any information, but it sure explains a few things," Morgan commented carefully.

"What she did was _stoke the fire_," Gibbs hissed. "If that tape was found out in Calverton it means that DeAngelo played it for the people out there. That means they _knew_ that using Tony as collateral wasn't going to work. He wasn't any good to them anymore. Its fucking amazing he was still ALIVE by the time we got out there!"

"I know, believe me, I know," Morgan said. "I don't really know what to say Gibbs. I just keep apologizing for her over and over again," he said resignedly as he waved his hand around in a kind of helpless gesture.

"Has _Fornell_ heard that yet?" Gibbs demanded.

"No. The idea was to keep him _in _the hospital, remember? If I played this for him, I'm afraid he'd check himself out and go hunting for her," Morgan told Gibbs, more than half serious.

"He'd be within his rights," Gibbs muttered. "Well, it certainly explains what happened out there when we went in."

"What do you mean?" Morgan looked at Gibbs in confusion, not understanding his reference.

"I hadn't been able to figure out why Marshall did what she did in the kitchen. We outnumbered and out gunned them when we went in, they didn't have a chance, and yet she went ballistic and lashed out at Templeton. Then Barker went at Ziva. They didn't have a prayer, but that didn't stop them. If they'd heard that tape, it explains the way they reacted," he said to Morgan, looking at him expectantly. When Morgan didn't catch on, Gibbs continued. "They thought we were going to _kill _them, so they figured they didn't have anything to lose. _That's_ what got Marshall shot, and caused the men in the control room to be on alert and armed by the time we got to them. If Templeton had kept her damn mouth _shut_, none of that would have happened, and Fornell wouldn't have _been_ shot!" Gibbs clarified for him.

"Damn, hadn't worked that out yet," Morgan said. "But you're right, it explains everything."

"Yeah, and now _we're_ going to use that fear when we interrogate them. May be the only good thing to come from that tape," Gibbs told him angrily.

"Good cop, bad cop?" Morgan asked.

"Just bad cop," Gibbs told him. "I'm going to talk to each of them separately, and _alone_. You can call on the phone in the interrogation room if I don't get answers to every question you want answered. They're afraid of me, let 'em stay that way. If you're in there too, they'll feel safer, think you'll be able to pull me back. If I'm alone, I'll make them piss their pants, and then give up everything they know."

"Which one do you want to talk to first?" Morgan asked. He wasn't going to argue with Gibbs. They'd promised to let him take lead, and if this was how he wanted to play it, then this was how it was going to be played.

"The woman. I'm betting she'll be the harder one to break. She was a Marine, so she's used to having someone get in her face, plus, Barker wasn't going to fight us until she attacked Templeton. I'm betting he's used to taking orders from lots of people, including her," Gibbs mused.

Five minutes later Morgan's phone rang. When he hung up he looked over at Gibbs and said. "They're here. Transport just dumped each of them in individual interrogation rooms. You ready?"

"Oh yeah," Gibbs said, quickly getting to his feet. "Let's get this over with."

In the end, it took Gibbs exactly 74 minutes to get every piece of information Barker and Marshall had on the operation. He'd been right; Marshall had been the harder nut to crack. She'd been sullen and silent at the beginning of the interrogation, but that hadn't lasted long. Gibbs had shamed her, talking about what a disgrace to the Marines she was, and before too long, she gave in and told him everything, about how she'd been recruited by Sylvia, and had in turn recruited Barker herself. It was from her that they learned that Phelps and Sylvia were an item, and that they were the only ones who had access to the accumulated funds from the kidnappings. When she'd heard that the FBI hadn't captured them yet, she became angry, sure that they had managed to escape, and were somewhere safe, busily figuring out how to spend not just their shares, but everyone else's shares of the money. Gibbs had been quick to point out to her that it shouldn't matter to her, since she was going to be brought up on murder charges, and she'd never get a chance to use any of the money, anyway.

Barker had been easier. All it had taken was a little physical intimidation, and a few dents in the table from Gibbs' fist, to get him to talk. Barker hadn't really had all that much more useful information, although they now knew exactly what had happened to Nussbaum. Gibbs had wrapped his hands around the man's throat when he learned that Barker had been the one to yield the whip, and Morgan, who'd been watching in the observation room, was afraid he would have to go in and rescue the scumbag, but in the end, Gibbs had released him. Once he'd caught his breath, he told Gibbs how he'd begged Phelps to stop DiNozzo's interrogation when it became clear that he wasn't going to give them a single piece of information about NCIS's investigation, only to have Phelps order him to continue. Phelps had told him he didn't care what shape DiNozzo was in, just as long as he was still alive, and that he wanted him to be a wreck by the time they filmed him for Gibbs. That piece of information had resulted in Gibbs cracking the observation room window with his fist, although he hadn't stopped the interview. In the end, Barker told them where to find the black van that had been used to snatch Tony, and the Hummer that had been used in the shooting of the FBI agents. Aside from that, the things Barker told them were really little more than corroboration of the information they'd gotten from Jillian Marshall.

It was 1606 when Gibbs walked out of the room that held Barker. Morgan met him in the hallway.

"Thanks, Gibbs. We got it all on tape, with an audio only backup, just in case. We owe you again for this," Morgan told him. "Pretty soon, its going to be hard to keep track of all the debts the FBI has to NCIS ."

"You won't owe us anything if you can track down Phelps, fast," Gibbs told him as he started to walk away. Stopping, Gibbs turned back and said, "And Morgan? When you find him_, I_ want to be in on the take down. That's _non-negotiable_. Remember, its like you said, the FBI owes NCIS, and t_hat's_ my price."

For just an instant, Morgan saw what Templeton had described on that fucking tape. Gibbs did have 'death in his eyes'. Swallowing, Morgan nodded, "Yeah, I'll make sure of it."

"See that you do," Gibbs said, and then, with one more nod in Morgan's direction, he turned to leave.


	28. Chapter 28

"**A Friend in Need" – Chapter Twenty-Eight**

It was Friday morning at 0605, and for a change, Gibbs sat alone in the waiting room. He was enjoying the rare moment of peace and quiet. The legions of visitors had yet to begin arriving, although he knew it was only a matter of time. Normally he'd be in with Tony at this time, as visitors were allowed in for ten minutes at the top of every hour, but today was different. Today, Tony was supposed to move out of ICU, and on to the step down unit. His team of doctors was in there with him right now, making a final assessment of his condition before they signed off on the move. Brad had stopped by on his way in to see Tony to say hello, and had assured Gibbs that the assessment was only a formality. Tony had responded remarkably well to the medications he'd received over the past two days, and there was absolutely no reason he needed to remain in Intensive Care. When Gibbs had thanked him, Brad had asked Gibbs if he was going to be here for an hour or so, as he wanted to talk to him alone, once Tony's evaluation was over. Gibbs had assured him that'd he be here, and so now he was just sitting and waiting, wondering what Brad wanted to discuss.

The last day and a half had been a whirlwind of activities. It had seemed to Gibbs as if there was someone new dropping in to check on Tony every five minutes, and Ziva, McGee and Abby had rarely left the room. As a matter of fact, _no one_ seemed to leave the room once they arrived, so it was a good thing each new arrival brought some sort of food offering with them. Of course, there had been that wonderful diversion when Abby had gone with Gibbs to see Langer, and Brent had laughed for a full five minutes as Abby explained, with self righteous indignation, how she would have finished Liz off, if only Gibbs had allowed her the opportunity. There had been visits to Merit and Fornell as well, but for the most part, Gibbs had stayed in the waiting room, rationing out visits with Tony to the various visitors. Gibbs accompanied each visitor, just to make sure that Tony didn't wear himself out trying to make everyone else feel better. Every FBI agent who came to see Merit, Fornell, and Langer seemed to end up stopping by the NCIS waiting room as well, to inquire about Tony's progress. So many NCIS agents from headquarters insisted on stopping by that Jenny had all but given up on getting any but the most essential work done this week. All the teams had been put on shortened days unless something urgent came up, so that had just increased the population of the waiting room.

Once it had become apparent that Tony's condition was no longer life threatening, the mood in the room had taken on a subdued party atmosphere. Gibbs, who had never been overly social, found it difficult to handle. Oh, he understood their need for a little levity and fun. Everyone had been on pins and needles for the last five days, and the reality of what had happened to Tony had only served to make the mood at NCIS and the FBI more oppressive. They'd earned their right to a little stress relief. He just wished it wasn't happening in the same room he was stuck in, and he was truly stuck, as there was _no way_ he was going to leave Tony alone to fend off the swarms of well wishers.

Of course, not every visitor had merely been there to see Tony. Various bigwigs from both the FBI and DC Metro had stopped by, their visits more exercises in political correctness than actual concern. Ducky was a constant as well, and Gibbs knew he was really there to offer him moral support, rather than to see Tony.

Fornell had been released yesterday afternoon, and he'd come up to the room on his way home to check on Tony, and to have a word with Gibbs. After several minutes of discussing the case, Fornell told Gibbs that Templeton's hearing with the Disciplinary Committee had been scheduled for 1300 on Friday. Gibbs had just grunted in response to that piece of information. He was done with the woman. He'd done what he could to ensure that she'd receive the proper punishment, but now it was out of his hands, and he didn't really want to dwell on her. Even thinking about what she'd done and said only made him furious all over again, and he certainly didn't want to talk about it. Fornell must have sensed Gibbs' attitude, because he'd dropped the subject, although Gibbs could tell he'd wanted to say more about the matter. His conversation with Fornell had weighed on his mind the rest of the day, and he hadn't really been surprised by what Jenny had to say when she arrived last night. As he sat there, he thought back over their conversation.

Jenny had gotten there at about six, looking tired and frustrated, which wasn't unexpected. She seemed to be the only one at NCIS Headquarters who was still putting in a full day's work, judging from the throng of NCIS people that were already in the waiting room. She'd nodded quick greetings to those gathered, as her eyes had sought out Gibbs, who was sitting tucked away in the farthest corner, with Ducky by his side. After the customary enquiries about Tony's progress, she had cleared her throat, and in her most noncombative voice began speaking. "I had a conversation with the Director of the FBI right before I left the office, this evening," she'd told Gibbs, and his gut had tightened when he realized exactly where this conversation was going to lead.

"Uh huh," Gibbs had responded, not about to ask for details, thereby making it easier for her.

"He told me that Liz Templeton was being called before a Disciplinary Committee tomorrow afternoon." She had paused to see what Gibbs' reaction would be. When he made no comment, she'd sighed and then continued, "He wants you there Jethro, in case the panel has any questions about her behavior while working on the case. I told him that Fornell had been right there with you, every step of the way, but he insisted that a representative from NCIS be present. One of the charges against her is being publicly disrespectful to agents from another federal agency."

Gibbs shoulders had stiffened, and she could see a vein on his forehead begin to pulse. "Send someone else," he'd growled.

"Who, Jethro? The only other person who could really speak to this for NCIS is Tony, and that isn't quite feasible, under the circumstances," she'd pressed.

"Tony's getting moved off ICU tomorrow, and I need to be here," Gibbs had said quietly, although the lack of volume didn't lessen the intensity of what he was saying. "I don't give a shit what happens to Templeton."

"I don't think that's true," Jenny had answered. "You'd go ballistic if she got off with only a warning, and you know it. Go – it won't take long. The hearing is at 1300, so Tony will have already gotten settled in his new room. I doubt if you'll be gone for more than two hours," she had coaxed.

"Look at this," Gibbs had said, as he'd swept his gaze around the room. "There have to be over fifteen people in here. Once Tony's in a regular room, if I'm not here, who's going to keep all these people out? Tony doesn't have the strength to deal with this many people. And it's not just because it's the evening; it looks like this all day long," he'd seethed.

Jenny had taken a deep breath, trying to push back her irritation. She hadn't wanted to resort to making this a direct order if she could help it, but she would if she found it necessary. She'd lose face with the FBI if Gibbs didn't show up. Everyone over there would know that she hadn't been able to make him attend the hearing, and they'd start to wonder who was _really_ in charge at NCIS. Even though she sometimes asked herself that very same question, she wasn't willing to have someone outside the agency wonder about it, too. "Put Ducky in charge while you're gone," she'd suggested, glancing over at the elderly doctor, who was sitting beside Gibbs, trying to look like he wasn't avidly listening to the argument. "I'll give him the day off, and he'll be here in your place. I really need you to do this, Jethro. Please?" She hated having to say please, hated feeling like she somehow owed Gibbs something; she was the boss; a simple request should have been enough. There was a little part of her, buried deep inside, that resented Gibbs' dogged devotion to his team, and to Tony in particular.

Pushing those thoughts back down to where she kept them hidden, she'd looked over at Ducky, hoping to enlist his aid. When their eyes met, she'd raised an eyebrow, silently beseeching, and Ducky had given her a wry smile, and then cleared his throat. "You _should_ go, Jethro," the elderly M.E. said. He had listened to Jenny, and knew she had failed to make the one argument that would force Gibbs to go. "I, for one, want to know that woman gets absolutely everything that she has coming to her. I know that Tony would most likely argue in favor of letting it go, but _I _am just not that forgiving. Everyone's heard that tape that Abby made by now, and it is clear that it's at least partially her fault that we are all here right now. You know how he is, Jethro. By now, he's most likely convinced himself that this is all _his_ fault, that _he_ was careless. If she is censured for her actions, it will be more difficult for him to shoulder all the blame. She needs to be punished, for Tony's emotional well-being. You need to make _sure_ that happens, while I stay here, and act as ring master for this little circus."

In the end, it had been Ducky's argument that had swayed Gibbs. Now, here it was, Friday morning, and Gibbs was sitting waiting for Brad to come see him, and waiting for Tony to be moved. He hoped both things happened soon, so that he could have some time alone with Tony before everyone else got here, and before he had to head over to the Hoover Building. Ducky would arrive at some point this morning, having swung by Gibbs' house on his way in, to pick up clean clothes for him. He had made it his mission to ensure that Gibbs had something clean to put on after he'd showered and cleaned up in the doctor's locker room, as he had done every day since Tuesday. Knowing Ducky, he'd most likely bring fresh coffee and breakfast with him, to make sure Gibbs actually ate real food, and didn't subsist on coffee alone. Gibbs hoped he would get there soon, since he wasn't sure what Brad wanted to talk to him about, but if it had to do with Tony's condition, he wanted Ducky there to hear it.

Brad ended up beating Ducky to the waiting room. He came into the room, pulled up a chair next to Gibbs, and sat down. "The assessment went just as I expected. Everyone's in agreement that Tony can be moved downstairs this morning. I like the way his lungs are starting to sound, and he's doing fine on the nasal cannula. The ortho people are as happy as they can be under the circumstances, and the internalists seem to have the worst of the infections under control. Everything else is just going to take time, and that's what I wanted to talk to you about Gibbs," he said, pausing to let Gibbs digest the information he'd just given him before he elaborated further.

"Um hmm," Gibbs said, waiting to see where Brad was going with this litany. He knew Tony's injuries weren't going to heal overnight. How could they? Brad knew Gibbs had plenty of experience with severe injuries, so he was a little unclear as to why they were having this discussion. What made this any different from other times Tony had been seriously hurt?

"If everything goes as expected, Tony's going to be released early next week, and I wanted to talk to you about what will happen then," Brad started.

"No need," Gibbs stopped him, "Tony will be coming to stay at my place until he's better." 'Brad already knows about us, so it isn't as if that should surprise him,' Gibbs thought.

Brad chuckled at Gibbs pronouncement. "Yeah, I expected that Gibbs. I didn't exactly think you were going to let Tony go to a nursing home until he could use his arms and hands again, although I'd love to see Abby's face if she thought that for even a minute." Sobering up he cleared his throat as he thought about how to proceed. "I didn't want to talk about Tony's actual physical recovery from his injuries, per say, Gibbs, I knew you'd already have the logistics for that worked out. Right now, this is me talking to you as Tony's _friend_, not as his doctor. I was in the room last night when the nurses were changing Tony's dressings. It was the first time I'd actually seen any of the wounds since he was first brought in. They're bad, Gibbs. Really bad. He's going to have scars from this, there's no way around it. Thankfully, they're all on his back side, and none are on his face, so he won't have to relive what happened every time he looks in a mirror, which, with Tony, happens far more than with the average person," Brad added, smiling slightly as he tried to lighten the mood just a little. "No one's discussed this with him yet, and he's not ready to hear it, but once he gets to your place, he's going to see the full extent of the damage, and he'll know. I was joking earlier, but the truth is, Tony is vain. He's put way too much importance on his physical beauty, and maybe that's because everyone else reacts to it, and probably have all his life. It's kind of hard to miss. He's learned to hide behind it, use it to his advantage. But the upshot of that, is that Tony hasn't learned to fully respect what's _inside_ him. He doesn't see the beauty of his own character."

Brad blew out a breath, and ran a hand through his hair. "Christ, I sound like some seventy year old Freudian psychiatrist. This is why I deal with infectious diseases and lungs. I'm not good at all the touchy feely aspects of medicine, but Tony's my friend, and I get him. He's going to take this badly. It'll punch all his insecurity buttons, and I think that because of that, he's going to have a hard time moving past this. What I really wanted to say was, I think he's going to need to see someone about this. Someone who can help him move on, someone impartial. I know what he thinks about shrinks, I've heard him rant every time he has to have a psych evaluation because of something that happened at work, but he's going to need to see one, Gibbs. And it can't be just a couple of sessions with the company doc, so he can get cleared for the job. This is going to take time, because the scars are going to take time to fade – all the scars – the _visible_ and the _invisible_ ones."

Gibbs nodded. He had been listening intently to what Brad had to say. When he'd mentioned the severity of Tony's wounds, his stomach had clenched tight, but when Brad had moved on to discussing the ramifications, Gibbs' stomach had started to churn. Brad was right, on every point. Tony didn't fully appreciate himself, Gibbs had known that for eight years. He had been trying to chip away at the problem for just as many, to varying degrees of success. He was also right about Tony's opinion of therapists, an opinion that Gibbs tended to share. Unlike Tony, however, Gibbs did acknowledge that there were times when a problem was too big to deal with on your own, and that the only sane solution was to seek a trained professional to help you through it.

When Brad saw Gibbs nod, he decided to press forward. "_You're_ going to have to be the one to push him into this Gibbs. He won't listen to anyone except you."

"He's not going to want to hear it from me, either," Gibbs muttered, as he thought about the fight they would have over this subject.

"We don't always get what we want," was Brad's answer.

Gibbs snorted, "I said that to someone just the other day. It's easy to say, when you aren't the one pushing someone to do what they don't want to do."

"I'm got total confidence in your ability to push Tony into doing the right thing," Brad smiled.

"That makes _one _of us. He can be completely unmovable when he wants to be."

"Well, it isn't as if he can take a swing at you right now," Brad smirked, "although maybe he can talk Abby into doing his dirty work for him. They seem to be quite the team."

"You have no idea," Gibbs said.

"Look, nothing has to be said to him right now. He couldn't begin to deal with it at the moment, anyway. No one's even going to talk to him about the scarring yet. That can wait; there's nothing to be done about it anyway, so why upset him when he's still so weak? I just wanted you to start thinking about it. I also wanted you to be on the lookout for any signs of trouble with Tony. He's a smart guy. He's going to start figuring things out on his own, would be my guess. As he gets better, and isn't drugged out of his mind on pain meds, the reality of what happened to him is going to sink in, and I expect he'll start having some nightmares. You know him best, so you'll know when the right time comes to talk with him. I wanted to make sure you had some time to think about what you were going to say."

That said, Brad stood up. "Well, guess I'd better get back to doing what they pay me to do. I was going to get some recommendations for people who specialize in helping trauma victims deal, if that would help? I know some people whose opinions I really respect."

Gibbs stood too. Shaking Brad's hand he said, "That'd be good. I really appreciate this Brad, and Tony will too, eventually."

"You take care," Brad said. "I'll see you later, once Tony's down on the third floor."

Gibbs sank back down in the chair as soon as Brad had disappeared, feeling drained both physically and emotionally. It hadn't been easy to hear what Brad was saying, but Gibbs was glad he'd brought it up. Oh, he'd have probably worked it out eventually on his own, but there was no telling how long that _eventually _would have been. _Too long_ for Tony's well being, that much he knew. It might not have been until Tony was in a complete downward spiral that he would have figured it out, because Tony _was_ just too good at hiding things - hiding behind the beautiful exterior that was now going to be his worst enemy.

At 0915 Tony was on his way down to the third floor, lying half asleep on a gurney, the center of attention in an odd parade made up of medical personnel and a mind boggling array of transportable equipment, with Gibbs following behind. Ducky had gone to run a few errands, promising to be back long before Gibbs needed to leave for the hearing, and Ziva, Abby and McGee had called a half hour ago from the office, to see if Gibbs wanted them to pick anything up for him on their way over. He hadn't asked them why they were at headquarters, although he had managed to convince them to wait a couple of hours before coming to the hospital, since it was going to take some time to get Tony situated in the new room. Before they'd hung up, he'd asked them to pass the word around, so as he trailed behind the procession, he was actually hopeful that he might have at least one uninterrupted hour alone with Tony.

By 1000 Tony had been plugged in, hooked up, and rebandaged, and the crowd of caregivers was down to one – Gibbs. Tony was tired but awake, the morning's activities having served to convince him that he was truly on the mend, and would soon be discharged. He was babbling away, even though his run-on monologue lacked its usual effervescence.

"……to get out of here. I'm starting to feel like a monkey in a zoo. Everyone stops by to take a look. Feel like I should be swinging from a tree, or something," Tony grumbled.

"You look like a monkey," Gibbs grunted as he sat sprawled in a puce green faux leather upholstered chair next to the bed, sipping on a cup of coffee. Gibbs wasn't sure where hospitals got their furniture, but it had to come from the same place since it all seemed to be equally ugly, as well as equally uncomfortable. He had been shifting around, trying to find a comfortable position, and hadn't really been listening too hard to what Tony was yammering on about, but the recent change in the tone of Tony's voice had made him pay a bit more attention.

"Har, har, har, Jethro," Tony said. "Seriously, they can't release me quickly enough from here. This is pointless. If all I'm going to do is lie around in a bed, I don't see why I can't do it at _home_." Of course, the coughing fit that followed that statement rather weakened Tony's position.

"I don't know, Tony. Maybe because you're still hooked up to IVs and are on oxygen? Just a guess, but I think that _might_ be part of it," Gibbs answered when Tony had the coughing under control enough to hear him. Privately he was thinking about how miserable the next few days were going to be. If Tony was impatient to leave now, as sick as he still was, he'd be unbearable by the time he really started feeling better.

"Sometimes I think that's just for show. Gives them an excuse to pad the bill. If I can drink water, than I can swallow pills, and that means the IVs are unnecessary," Tony huffed.

"And the oxygen? Are you going to tell me that your breathing is one hundred percent?" Gibbs gave in and asked. He had intended to just let Tony rant, not get drawn into this pointless argument, but since he knew part of this was just a way for Tony to channel energy, he had succumbed. Tony was bored, he couldn't help but be since he was stuck in a bed, with no way to keep his mind occupied. Tony was happiest when he was out doing things which challenged him, both physically and mentally, and if physical activity wasn't an option, then sparring with Gibbs verbally was going to have to suffice.

"No, but it isn't any worse now than when I have a bad cold, and I don't need oxygen then," Tony said stubbornly. "Even Brad said I was over the hump as far as the bronchitis goes, and he's almost as much of a worry wart as Ducky."

"And yet he didn't take you off the oxygen," Gibbs raised an eyebrow as he pointed out.

"And _that_ takes me back to my point about padding the bill," Tony said triumphantly.

"Are we going to spend what little time we have alone arguing?" Gibbs asked him.

"Well, I don't know," Tony snapped. "Do you have a better idea? It's not exactly private around here, even if this is a single room. See, yet another reason I should be released. If we weren't here, I'm sure we could come up with some far more _interesting_ ways to entertain ourselves," Tony said, as he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Oh yeah, that'd turn out well. You can barely move without causing your entire body to hurt, not to mention the fact that both your arms are immobilized due to the shoulder dislocations, and both wrists are broken. Then there's the issue that I haven't had a full night's sleep in a week, so I can see how we're obviously both prime candidates for hot, steamy sex," Gibbs snorted.

"Details," Tony said, half heartedly, wincing in pain when he shifted slightly, and looked down at his arms.

Gibbs waited several moments for Tony to say more, but nothing came. By now, Tony had his head turned completely away from Gibbs, and from where he was sitting, Gibbs couldn't see Tony's face. 'This isn't good.' Gibbs was busy chastising himself. '_Real_ smooth, Jethro. Way to make him feel better,' he thought. He'd fucked up, big time, and he knew it. He'd only meant to play along with Tony, but instead he'd called Tony's attention to how truly incapacitated he was, and would be, for quite a while. He was still trying to figure out a way to salvage the situation, when Tony said in a much quieter voice, "The doctors said it would be at least four weeks before I could really use my arms or hands again."

"I know," Gibbs answered, just as softly.

Tony was silent again for several minutes, and then he asked in little more than a whisper, "What in the hell am I supposed to do?"

"What are WE supposed to do," Gibbs corrected him. "WE are going to do what we always do, hang in there. Did you really think I'd let you deal with this on your own?" Gibbs quietly stood up and moved closer to the bed. Tony didn't turn and look at him, but Gibbs could tell that he knew that he was standing next to him; he'd seen Tony tense up. Reaching out, Gibbs lightly cupped Tony's face and turned it towards him. Tony closed his eyes. "Hey," Gibbs said. "Look at me." When Tony reluctantly opened his eyes again, Gibbs said softly, "Four weeks isn't that long. We'll figure out how to deal with it as we go along."

"Yeah, sure," Tony agreed, without any real conviction behind his words. Four weeks was going to feel like an eternity, and he knew it. "So, what time did you say Liz's hearing was?"

Gibbs studied Tony. That had been a less than subtle way to change the subject, but he decided to let it go for now. There wasn't anything to be gained from forcing Tony to deal with his injuries right now; it could wait. "1300. Figured I'd leave here around 1215. Why, trying to get rid of me?"

"Would it work?" Tony asked with a small smile. "Seriously though Jethro, you really don't need to spend all your time here. You've got things you should be doing. I'm not going anywhere, and it isn't as if there aren't plenty of people around, willing to do anything I need them to do, if I ask," Tony said, dredging up another rather anemic smile. He was getting tired again, and it was becoming hard to hide his own worries and insecurities.

"Yeah, but that's the problem, isn't it? _You wouldn't ask_," Gibbs said. When Tony started to defend himself, Gibbs held up his hand. "Doesn't matter this time anyway, Tony. I've got nothing else I'd rather be doing, and even if I did, I'd _still_ be here. Now we're going to drop this conversation."

"Since Jenny didn't really give me much choice about going to the hearing, you might as well help me prepare. I don't know if I'm really going to get called to give a statement, but in case that happens, why don't you tell me exactly what happened when she and you went to talk to the people in Barker's neighborhood." Gibbs had heard Templeton's side of things, but he wanted to get Tony's interpretation of events, to make sure they coincided.

Tony scrunched up his brow, thinking back; just how much did he really want to tell Gibbs, he wondered. When he had his story worked out in his head, he began to speak. "When we got there, we decided it might be better if we split up, and we each took an opposite side of the street. That way we could still see each other, but could get the interviews conducted in half the time."

Gibbs interrupted at that point. "Is that the _only_ reason you decided to split up?" he asked shrewdly.

Tony started to say yes, but he hesitated just a millisecond too long, and Gibbs knew he was covering something up.

"I don't think that's the whole truth," Gibbs pushed.

Sighing, Tony shook his head. "Nah, there was more to it than that. Liz was pissed that she'd been assigned to work with me. We'd had words before leaving Headquarters, and she was still sulking when we got there."

"Yeah, I know. We all heard what she had to say," Gibbs told Tony, who looked surprised and rather alarmed by that piece of information.

"_How_?" Tony demanded. "No one else was there."

"Not true," Gibbs informed him. He was stunned when Gibbs told him about Palmer being down in the parking garage, on the phone with Abby at the time, and how Abby had taped what Liz had said to Tony.

"Who all's heard it?" Tony asked in dread.

"The team, and some other NCIS personnel, and some people over at the Bureau, including Fornell, Marshall and Morgan," Gibbs told him, knowing there wasn't any point in lying to Tony, he'd find out sooner or later, anyway.

"Fuck!" Tony cursed, then he squirmed in embarrassment, which caused pain to shoot through his body, reminding him of exactly why he was there. Liz had said some pretty ugly things to him that day; she'd even brought up the molestation and the whole debacle with Jeffers, all those years ago. 'Great, just what I need. Not only has half of NCIS seen that DVD of me getting my ass whipped, now they know about how I let some untrained, sexually confused pervert get his hands on me. Damn it!' he thought to himself. "That's just _great_!" he said aloud.

"You didn't do or say _anything_ to be embarrassed about," Gibbs said, not completely following Tony's line of thought, for which Tony was grateful. "So, how did her being angry effect your decision to split up?" he asked.

"She was so angry I knew she wouldn't be able to hide it when we talked to people. I didn't want that to effect their willingness to tell us what they knew. I thought, incorrectly obviously, that it would be better if we didn't work as a team. So it was my call, Gibbs. My _call_, and my _fault_," Tony said more quietly.

"Your call, yeah," Gibbs agreed. "But what happened _wasn't_ your _fault_. Doesn't sound like it was really Templeton's either, although her behavior may have been a contributing factor. We'll never know if they would have gotten to you if you'd been together, so there isn't much point in worrying about it now. I needed to hear your version though, in case that recording of her gets brought up at the hearing, since one of the charges is that she was openly disrespectful of representatives of another agency. There may also be some questions about her competency, since she was over powered when she was with you, and again out at Calverton – I just don't know." Gibbs had stood up while he was talking, and moved to the side of Tony's bed, so he could be closer to the younger man.

"What happened to her when she was with me could have happened to anyone," Tony said, looking up at Gibbs. "She didn't do anything wrong. The guy got her from behind."

"That's what it sounds like," Gibbs agreed, "but I wanted to make sure."

"I wish the whole thing would just go away," Tony said quietly. "Nothing to be gained by dredging it all up again."

"Not for you, no," Gibbs agreed. "But maybe this will protect someone else. Think about it, Tony. She's formed some deep seeded hate for you, for no reason. What's to keep her from doing it again? With someone who's six she's supposed to have? She's already demonstrated her willingness to disregard a direct order, so what's to stop her from neglecting her other duties? Fornell was right to push for this. She's a loose cannon, and that makes her _dangerous_. Do you really want her to continue watching Brent's back? What if it was McGee or Ziva?"

Tony shook his head. Gibbs was right. He didn't trust Liz, and he wouldn't want her responsible for the safety of someone he cared for, or anyone else, for that matter. "I guess it needs to happen," he was forced to admit. "I just wish…."

"Yeah, me too, Tony. Me too," Gibbs interrupted him by saying. Gibbs reached over and ran a hand down the side of Tony's face in a soothing gesture. "Let's just drop it for now. I got what I needed. It'll be over soon anyway, and we can put it behind us." They stayed that way for a long time, Gibbs leaning over the bed, his hand caressing Tony's face, and Tony, slit eyed, allowing himself to savor the touch. Finally, needing to move before his back locked up on him, Gibbs broke the silence by asking, "So, who do you think is going to get here first, Abby or McGee and Ziva?"

"I'll bet you twenty it'll be McPrompt and our own beautiful little ninja assassin," Tony said. He wasn't really ready for the intimate moment to end, but knew someone could come in at any minute. Besides, this was too good an opportunity to miss. Abby had told him yesterday, while Gibbs was talking with a nurse, that she and Courtney Kreiger were going to run computer searches for something this morning, and that she wasn't going to get over to the hospital until the afternoon. He remembered it clearly, because Abby had been so worried that he might think she'd forgotten about him, which had amused him. As if it were _possible_ for Abby to forget about a friend in need of company! He had actually had to reassure her that it would be fine. Now, next time he saw her, he could tell her about how she'd helped him win twenty dollars, and even after he forked over the ten she would demand for helping him out, it would be worth it.

"You're on," Gibbs said. "I practically had to carry Abby out of here last night, so I'm betting she'll be here any minute."

"We'll see," Tony said with a slight smile.

Ducky chose that moment to arrive. As Gibbs had predicted, he came bearing food and coffee, as well as clean clothing for Gibbs. After eating the breakfast burrito Ducky had brought him, while Tony watched with envy, Gibbs grabbed the bag of clean clothes Ducky had picked up for him, and headed off to get cleaned up, leaving Ducky to entertain Tony.

The rest of the morning was relatively uneventful. As Tony had predicted, McGee and Ziva were the next to arrive, and they stayed for over an hour, visiting quietly with Tony, before Gibbs ordered them out, announcing that Tony needed to get some sleep. By the time 1215 rolled around, Tony was indeed asleep, and Ducky was safely ensconced in the visitor's chair next to the bed, having promised Gibbs to keep the visitors to a manageable number, and to make sure that Tony got some rest. When Gibbs started in on how Ducky was to call him if anything new came up, Ducky rolled eyes and said, "I _do _know what to do, Jethro. Perhaps you didn't realized that as an M.E. I do have a _medical degree_, and have even practiced medicine on living, breathing patients. Now run along, I shall play guard dog for Tony while you're away, never fear. You really should be more careful. I doubt if Tony would appreciate hearing you carry on as if you were giving directives to a baby sitter. We will be quite fine while you're gone." Ducky then made small shooing motions with his hands, and, having run out of last minute instructions, Gibbs had little choice but to comply.

Traffic was bad, and the parking situation even worse, so Gibbs didn't arrive at the Hoover Building until 1248. Fornell was actually standing in the lobby waiting for him when he got into the lobby. "Had expected you earlier," Fornell said as Gibbs drew up to his side.

"Would have been here earlier, except every jackass in D.C. seems to be out on the streets today," Gibbs grunted.

"Hope you didn't run anyone off the road," Fornell said as he began to lead the way towards the security check point.

Gibbs drew out his badge and ID which he handed to the guard on duty. "Didn't even honk my horn," he told Fornell.

Once Gibbs had been cleared, and they were heading for the elevators Fornell asked, "How's DeNutzo today?"

"_Tony's _doing better. He got moved out of the ICU this morning," Gibbs answered.

If Fornell noticed the correction of Tony's name, he didn't give any indication as they stepped into the elevator. "That's real good Jethro. Gonna take some time till he's healed, though. It'd drive me crazy having both my arms immobilized, being helpless. He got family or something that can come take care of him while he gets better?" Fornell asked

"Got it covered," Gibbs answered stiffly, not elaborating further, his tone telling Fornell that the topic was closed. "So, how's today going to work?" he asked.

The abrupt change of subject surprised Fornell, and he looked over at Gibbs before he spoke. Gibbs face was impassive, and Fornell couldn't tell what was going on behind his carefully guarded eyes. "Not exactly sure," he said, answering Gibbs' question. "AD Marshall's running the show, not me, but I can tell you how it usually works. There'll be a panel made up of Internal Affairs and Human Resources people, and possibly an Assistant Deputy. Someone presents the charges, which I'm guessing in this case will be Marshall, since that would usually be my job. The panel will then get to ask questions, which is why you're here – just in case they want your interpretation of what happened. Same with me, since I was there. That's why Marshall's running the show, in case the panel calls me as a witness. Then they'll probably question Templeton. Normally, the agent in question is then allowed to address the panel, before they recess to discuss what they heard and arrive at a ruling. If they find her guilty of the charges, they'll also enumerate what the disciplinary actions will be."

"Do I need to stay for the whole thing?" Gibbs asked.

"Nah. Once they recess to talk it over, you can go. I can let you know what they decide," Fornell told him.

"That works," Gibbs said.

Moments later they were standing outside the door of the conference room where the hearing was going to occur. "Ready?" Fornell asked Gibbs.

"Let's get this over with," Gibbs said, as he reached over and opened the door.


	29. Chapter 29

"**A Friend in Need" – Chapter Twenty-Nine**

The first thing Gibbs saw when he entered the conference room was a long table at the front of the room, positioned so that its length ran parallel to a group of folding chairs arranged in rows which faced it. Five people sat at the table, perusing the collection of files spread out in front of them, and there were several people sitting in the rows of chairs, of whom Liz Templeton was one. Everyone looked up from what they were doing to study the new arrivals when Fornell and Gibbs walked in, most with neutral expressions. AD Marshall, who was standing at the front of the room, nodded his head in their direction as greeting, but Templeton, who sat in one of the chairs in the front row, merely stared, her eyes cold and unreadable, and her mouth pulled down into a frown. Ed Morgan and Courtney Kreiger, the only two members of Liz's regular team who were not in the hospital, sat in the row behind her, and they both gave the two senior agents small, tense smiles. This wasn't going to be easy for either of them, even though they both knew Liz had crossed the line.

Gibbs and Fornell eased themselves down into two chairs at the back of the room, somewhat removed from the other people present. Once settled, Fornell leaned over to Gibbs and said, "Templeton didn't seem happy to see us."

"Ya think?" Gibbs snorted, as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Not sure which of us is higher on her shit list, Tobias.

They continued to quietly make small talk for several minutes until finally AD Marshall cleared his throat. Moving to the center of the room, he said, "This hearing is to investigate a series of complaints filed against Special Agent Elizabeth Ruth Templeton. I will read the charges, and then the members of the Disciplinary Panel will have the opportunity to ask any questions they deem to be relevant." At this point Marshall opened the file folder he was holding, and began reading aloud.

"Agent Templeton is charged with two counts of Dereliction of Duty, one for directly disobeying an order during a recent joint operation with NCIS, which resulted in two prisoners being left unattended, and the other for entering an area where an exchange of gun fire was occurring between federal agents and two kidnappers without properly announcing her presence to her fellow agents. In addition to these charges, she has also been accused of displaying conduct unbecoming to an agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation by being publicly disrespectful to agents from another agency. At this juncture, I'd like to call on Tobias Fornell to come forward."

Once Tobias had stood and approached the front of the room, and was facing the panel, Marshall continued speaking, "Agent Fornell, you are the Supervisory Agent in Charge of all the D.C. area Bureau teams, is that correct?" After Fornell indicated agreement to that statement, he then added, "According to the reports on the incidents that bring us here today, you were also a witness to the actions for which Special Agent Templeton stands accused." Again Marshall paused until Fornell confirmed his statement. "Would you, in your own words, describe for us what happened in each of these incidents, beginning with the assertion that Agent Templeton was willfully disrespectful to representatives from another agency."

Fornell took a deep breath, and began speaking. He began his report by describing the attitude Liz had displayed towards Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo in the waiting room at Bethesda Naval Hospital on Friday evening. In the process, he listed all those who had been gathered together, waiting for word on the conditions of Specials Agent Brent Langer and Victor Merit, as well as Assistant Director Glenn. He then proceeded to discuss her resentment of being assigned to work as a liaison with NCIS. When he was done relating that story, Templeton shot to her feet and said, "I object!"

"Please sit back down, Agent Templeton. This isn't a court of law, and _you _are not a lawyer. The panel will give you a chance to speak before they adjourn to discuss the disposition of the pending charges," Marshall said firmly, fixing her with an uncompromising glare.

Once Liz had stiffly retaken her seat, Tobias continued. He carefully avoided mentioning Abby's and Templeton's waiting room brawl, but he did describe the recording Abby had made of Liz berating Tony in the parking lot at NCIS. At this point a grey haired, portly woman on the panel interrupted and asked, "Is there a copy of that recording that we could hear?" Marshall produced a copy of the CD, and it was played over the speakers in the room. Gibbs winced as he listened to Liz's malicious attack on Tony; the level of vitriol she displayed still stunned him. 'What did Tony _ever_ do to her? What is her problem with him?' he wondered, as he sat listening to the recording go on and on, feeling himself getting angrier and angrier as it played out. When the recording was turned off, the woman spoke again. "According to the documentation we've been provided, am I correct in assuming this exchange happened shortly before Agent DiNozzo was abducted, Special Agent Fornell?"

"Yes Ma'am," Fornell answered.

The woman looked out across the room at Gibbs. "You are Special Agent Gibbs?"

Gibbs just nodded.

"Would you like to add anything to what Agent Fornell has shared?" she asked.

"No," Gibbs said, not trusting himself to say much more. The recording had him hot around the collar all over again.

The woman raised an eyebrow, but refrained from commenting. "Very well," she said, then, looking up at DA Marshall, the woman asked, "If I may?" When Marshall gave a slight inclination of his head, she turned to Tobias and continued, "Agent Fornell, would you be so kind as to take us through the operation that occurred last Tuesday, during which Agent Templeton allegedly disobeyed protocol and a direct order?"

Once again, Fornell described in detail the incursion on the plantation home in Calverton, taking great care in establishing that Gibbs had been in charge of the actual attack; 'the Bureau might have taken public credit for the apprehension of the kidnappers, but it wouldn't hurt to remind the panel of the pivotal role that NCIS played in the whole operation,' he thought to himself as he spoke. He went on to talk about what had occurred in the kitchen, stressing that he had specifically ordered Templeton to stand guard over Barker and Jillian Marshal. He then recounted the gun battle in the hallway, and how Templeton's presence had caused him to look away from the perps, resulting in his having been shot in the arm. The sling he wore gave silent testament to the severity of his injury.

When he fell silent, the woman turned to Gibbs and asked yet again, "Do you have anything to add to that, Agent Gibbs?"

"Nope," Gibbs told her. When she continued to stare at him, he added, "That's what happened."

The woman paused, as if giving Gibbs a chance to change his mind and elaborate, but when it became evident that Gibbs had said all he was going to say, she turned and looked at her fellow panel members. "Do any of you have any questions for either Agent Gibbs or Agent Fornell?"

An older, spectacled man in a neat grey pinstriped suit spoke up. "I do. Agent Fornell, in regards to the incident at the hospital on the night that your agents were wounded, I was wondering, did anyone speak to Agent Templeton about her behavior?"

"Yes, Sir," Tobias answered. "Both Agent Edward Morgan, her team leader, and I, told Agent Templeton that her behavior and attitude were unacceptable. Agent Morgan went so far as to warn her that another such incident would result in a formal reprimand being placed on her permanent record."

"Thank you Agent Fornell," the man said. Looking at Morgan, he asked, "Agent Morgan, do you concur with what Agent Fornell has just asserted?"

When Morgan said, "Yes Sir," the man then pinned Liz with his gaze. "And do _you,_ Agent Templeton, remember both of your superiors speaking to you about this matter?"

Liz didn't have much choice but to agree, and in a quiet, rather sullen voice, she said, "I do."

After giving this information a minute to sink in, the woman, who was obviously in charge of the panel, looked at the others and asked if there were any other questions. When no one spoke up, she said, "Thank you Agent Fornell, you may be seated." Once Tobias had gone back to sit beside Gibbs, she looked at Liz and said, "Agent Templeton, this would be your opportunity to address the charges being brought against you."

Liz had been waiting for this ever since her outburst. She'd spent the whole time Fornell was speaking gathering her thoughts and preparing her arguments. She knew she had to be very careful not to let her temper get the better of her again. The situation was already bad, and showing anything that could be misconstrued as 'attitude' would only serve to make it worse.

"I have a few things I'd like to say, thank you," she began, nodding at the panel in acknowledgement. "First of all, I'd like to take the opportunity to tell Special Agent Gibbs that I was relieved to hear that Agent DiNozzo is getting better, as we have already lost too many agents during this whole operation. Secondly, I'd like to formally apologize for any perceived public display of poor attitude on my part towards an NCIS agent. I meant no disrespect to that agency, for which I once worked as an agent; and I _certainly _did not intentionally try to embarrass the Bureau. As far as that recording of my conversation with Agent DiNozzo, though, I feel compelled to point out that it was a PRIVATE conversation, and was not intended to be heard by anyone other than the person to whom I was speaking, so I question the relevance of it at these proceedings."

Fornell shook his head at that statement. Templeton still didn't get it, that last remark had proved that - maybe she never would. Rather than follow that line of thought however, he refocused, as Liz was still speaking.

"I also want to express my deepest regrets that Agent Fornell received an injury during the Calverton operation. I don't refute the fact that Agent Fornell did indeed order me to stay in the kitchen, and I had every intention of complying with that order. However, since the perps that I was guarding were both unconscious, when I heard multiple gunshots, I felt I needed to provide backup, since it is standard FBI procedure to cover one's partners. I did not identify myself when I entered the hallway, that's true, but it was because I had not had a chance to properly access the situation. I had no idea that my presence would distract my fellow agents. Again, I am very sorry that Agent Fornell ended up being shot," Liz said, "but given the circumstances, I _do_ feel that my actions were justified."

Liz's statement had only served to further enrage Gibbs. Not once, in all that she had said, did she express the least amount of remorse for the hateful things she had said to Tony. Oh, she'd denied being intentionally disrespectful towards NCIS, but not towards Tony. Her argument for why she'd disobeyed Fornell's order and left the kitchen only highlighted her propensity for believing that her assessment of a situation was more valid than anyone else's, including her superiors'. He had known that coming here today would be a mistake. Nothing was going to be gained by his presence, and instead of being by Tony's side, where he belonged, he was stuck sitting in this room, having to listen to Templeton run off at the mouth.

"Thank you, Agent Templeton. We've heard what you have to say, and will consider your words, as well as those of Agent Fornell, and the documented statements of the other witnesses contained in the complaint. The panel is going to withdraw now, to discuss these issues, and we ask that you and AD Marshall remain here. Everyone else is dismissed. When we've arrived at a ruling on the charges, and, if necessary, any disciplinary actions, we will return and share them with you," the female spokesperson for the panel said.

Once the panel had exited the room, Tobias looked over at Gibbs. "You ready to leave?"

"More than," Gibbs grunted.

"Morgan wanted to know if you and I could stop by his team's offices to see him before you headed out. Do you have time? Think he wants to talk about Kreiger. She, McGee and Abby have something up their sleeves that he wanted to run by us."

"Yeah, might as well deal with it now. If Abby's involved, she'll hound me about it until I do," Gibbs sighed. "Any idea what it's in reference to?"

"Nah, none. He just mentioned it to me right before the hearing, so I didn't have time to get into it," Fornell said. "Tell you the truth, I'm kinda scared about what the three of them could be cooking up."

"No shit," Gibbs agreed.

Together they left the room, neither one sparing a single glance in Liz's direction.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Liz waited in the room nervously, lost in her own thoughts. If the truth were told, she was having a hard time wrapping her head around what had happened here this afternoon. It was incomprehensible to her how things had come to this point. That she would be sitting here, facing the Disciplinary Panel for her actions in the operation with NCIS, an operation that rightfully should have been conducted by the FBI, but had ended up being spearheaded by Gibbs and his collection of misfits, was outrageous. She was a mature, competent federal agent, being questioned about her attitude and behavior, when she'd been forced to interact with them. Surely the fact that DiNozzo was lying in a hospital bed, after having been overpowered, abducted, and whipped half to death should suggest _something_ to the panel. These people were out for blood, looking for a scapegoat, and she had been the easiest target. That bitch Abby had seen to that, 'she all but painted a bull's eye on my back,' Liz fumed to herself.

Liz spent the next several minutes silently steaming, and was so lost in her own thoughts that she almost missed the fact that the panel had returned, and were taking their seats at the table. AD Marshall walked over to the table, and had an intense, very quiet, whispered conversation with the woman from Internal Affairs who had served as spokesperson for the panel earlier. Consumed with a mixture of curiosity and dread, Liz strained to hear what was being discussed, to no avail. Finally, Marshall nodded, then straightened up, and turned to address Liz.

"Agent Templeton, the panel has given your case due consideration, and after weighing all arguments, have arrived at the following opinion. They unanimously agreed with all the charges leveled against you. That leaves me in the unenviable position of having to determine what your punishment shall be. I'd like to preface my ruling by pointing out a few things to you, things I feel you _should _already know," he paused, waiting until Liz had met his eyes before he continued.

"The success of any Bureau team rides on the knowledge that each team member understands their place on that team. There is no room for showboating or one-upmanship. In order for them to be effective, each member needs to know that their fellow agents will always follow the orders they are given, and that they are all working together, as a _cohesive_ unit, each fulfilling a particular role in every operation. By blatantly disregarding Agent Fornell's orders, you not only overstepped your place, you put your team in danger. I understand that you thought you were doing just the opposite, but Agent Fornell's injury should serve as a very real reminder to you of why you were incorrect. As for you not identifying yourself, I can come up with absolutely no plausible excuse. As seriously misguided as both of those actions were, the charge I personally find most disturbing is the one about you being publicly disrespectful towards a representative of another federal agency. The Bureau works in tandem with other law enforcement agencies on a daily basis, and that collaboration only works when both sides treat the other with respect. Most local organizations, such as the Metro Police are always leery of our involvement, partially because they have all had experience with overbearing and condescending agents. Yes, it is true they don't have the same resources we do, and they are often not as highly trained as our agents, but the end goal is always the same – to find the perpetrators of crimes and bring them to justice. As far as an NCIS agent goes, that individual DOES have extensive training in investigative procedures and criminal apprehension, and Agent DiNozzo's record is _particularly_ impressive. So impressive, in fact, that he has been approached by this agency on numerous occasions with job offers. Offers which include, I might add, positions as a team leader, something that has yet  
to happen with _you_, so your assumptions and implications couldn't have been farther off the mark. Do I make myself clear, thus far?" he asked.

When Liz nodded mutely in response, he said, "Very good. So now I have to decide what to do with you. These infractions are actually serious enough that dismissal is not an unreasonable punishment, but I hesitate to go that far, since you have never been called before a Disciplinary Panel before. On the other hand, merely putting three formal reprimands into your file, and sending you back to your old team is not making a strong enough statement, and I fear the lesson would be lost on you. To that end, this is what I have decided to do. Formal reprimands will be placed in your file, and you will be suspended for two weeks without pay. At the end of the two weeks, you will be transferred to the field office in Eau Claire, Wisconsin, and you will be demoted to Junior Agent status. This is a two person office, and will give you an opportunity to work on building trust and a strong working relationship with your senior officer, based on mutual respect. Be forewarned, if there is any repeat of the behavior that led to these actions, you will be summarily dismissed. Do you have any questions?"

Liz shook her head, in a state of shock. 'Eau Claire, WI- it might as well be Timbuktu! _Nothing_ happens in Eau Claire! He is burying me, shoving me off into a career ending posting.' There would be no chance to redeem herself, or prove her skills as an agent. 'What in the hell do they even do in Wisconsin, besides shovel snow all winter long? Any major case would be handled by the Milwaukee or Madison offices. I'll be lucky if I get to investigate cow-nappings.'

"If you have no questions, then I suggest you go empty your desk of your personal possessions. The suspension begins immediately. Someone from Human Resources will be in touch with you early next week to work out the details of your transfer. You are dismissed, Agent Templeton. Use this opportunity to your advantage. Take the time to work on the skills you are clearly lacking."

Liz was beyond words. She mutely nodded, then spun on her heels and hied herself out of that room as fast as she could.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Courtney and Morgan beat Gibbs and Fornell back to the FBI team's office, since the two older agents had stopped to grab a quick bite to eat and refuel on coffee. When they walked in, Kreiger was standing in front of Morgan's desk, talking animatedly to him, while he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head, listening in amusement.

"Gibbs, Fornell, I'm glad you stopped by," Morgan said, standing when he saw the men. "Kreiger here is wearing me out. Seems she was over at your shop at the crack of dawn this morning Gibbs, helping Abby and Tim McGee set up a series of computer searches, aimed at trying to track down Phelps and Cooper. Since she's on desk duty for at least two more weeks, because of the bullet wound, they hatched this idea that she could be on loan to NCIS for the duration, so that she could continue to work with them. I told her that it wasn't my call, that she'd need your okay Tobias, as well as both yours, Gibbs, and Director Shepard's approval, but that hasn't stopped her from giving me an almost continuous sales pitch," he laughed.

Fornell smiled. "Do you have a problem with it, Ed?"

"No, not really. Since Brent and Vic are going to be out for awhile, and who knows what is going on with Templeton, it isn't as if the team will be on active duty anyway. If she can be of any help in finding those assholes, I'm all for it," Morgan told him.

"Then I'm fine with it. How about you, Gibbs?" Fornell asked his friend.

"Works for me," Gibbs said. "Abby and McGee are going to have other things to attend to as well, so maybe having Kreiger there will speed everything up," he said thoughtfully, as he sipped on his coffee.

"WOOT!" Courtney exclaimed, jumping up and down in excitement, causing the others in the room to laugh aloud. "I can't wait to tell Abby!!! Thank you, thank you, and thank you!! You've saved me from a life of tedium, spent pouring over cold cases for two weeks while trying to stay awake."

When Morgan raised an eyebrow and gave her a mock stern look, she backpedaled. "Um, not that reviewing cold cases isn't really important or anything, but this is even _more_ important," she gushed, her enthusiasm refusing to be squelched. "I'm going to head over there right now! I promise to check in all the time. Every hour if you want," she offered.

Morgan just laughed. "I think once a day will suffice, Agent Kreiger. It isn't as if I won't know where to find you if I need you."

Courtney was already over at her desk, pulling her purse out of a drawer. Once she had it firmly tucked under her good arm, they watched with amusement as she literally skipped out the open door that led to the hallway.

"I hope she doesn't come back to me totally corrupted and dressed all in black," Morgan joked as she disappeared.

"There are worse things," Gibbs commented.

"Yeah," Fornell agreed. "She _could _come back with NCIS ROCKS! tattooed around her neck."

The men were still laughing over that when they heard a ruckus coming from the hallway.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Liz had been walking blindly down the hallway, trying hard not to cry tears of rage over the injustice of the whole situation, when she saw Courtney Kreiger emerge from her team's office. 'Great, this is just who I wanted to run in to – Little Miss Goody Two Shoes!' she thought.

Courtney had just dug her cell phone from out of her purse, intending to call Abby to let her know that she was on her way back to NCIS Headquarters, when she looked up, and saw Liz headed her way. "Liz," she called out. "What happened at the hearing? Are you okay?" she asked, since the look on Liz's face alarmed her.

Liz stopped in her tracks and blinked at her. Looking at Courtney standing there, all innocent and full of concern, combined with the strain of trying to hold herself together caused something inside Liz to just snap. Before she could control her emotions or her actions, her fury was spewing forth, directed straight at Courtney. "Of course I'm not okay!" she spat. "I just got suspended for two weeks, demoted, AND I'm being transferred to some stupid ass backwoods field office in Eau Claire, Wisconsin! How could I _possibly_ be okay?!?! This is all _your _fault, you stupid ninny. If you had done what every other self-respecting FBI agent would have done, and gone to your _team_ for help, rather than run to some blood-thirsty Mossad assassin and NCIS, none of this would have happened. What in the hell were you _thinking_? Afraid we weren't good enough to keep you safe? Needed to let the almighty Gibbs shelter you? Huh? I can't hear you," she hissed at Courtney, who stood, open mouthed, staring at Liz in shock. Not waiting for a reply, Liz rushed on. "And just what did it accomplish, that's what I'd like to know! Because of _you,_ DiNozzo got taken and had the shit beat out of him, and the two masterminds of the whole operation are still on the loose. And me, well, you pretty much effectively ended my career with the Bureau!!! So I hope you're _really _pleased with yourself!"

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" Gibbs barked, standing in the doorway in front of Morgan's office. He, Fornell, and Morgan had all come to see what was going on, when they first heard Liz's raised voice wafting from the hallway. When he'd heard what she had said to Courtney, he hadn't been able to suppress his anger. He'd heard that tape of her verbally eviscerating Tony too many times, and he'd run out of patience with her. "Kreiger didn't do anything to you. You did it all to yourself! It was _your_ arrogance and poor judgment that led to that hearing. You've always been like this Templeton, it's not new. Saw it years ago, when you were working for me. I remember you sneering over DiNozzo's background, making assumptions of what kind of cop he was based on a cursory background check, even though you'd never met him. I _also_ remember you taking it upon yourself to leave the Yard, even though I'd _told _you to stay put. That doesn't even take into account the snit you had when you discovered that DiNozzo had been recruited for the team. I was glad when you got all bent out of shape and transferred back to the Bureau, saved me from having to boot your ass out the door! The _only_ mistake anyone else has made on this whole case was letting _you _serve as the NCIS/FBI liaison. Maybe if we hadn't done that, DiNozzo wouldn't have ended up lying on his flayed back, in a hospital bed, but that has nothing to do with Kreiger. YOU were his partner the day he got taken, and YOU were expected to have his six."

Gibbs didn't care if that accusation wasn't fair. He was tired of being fair! Tony had been more than fair to her, at his urging, he remembered, with no small amount of guilt, and look at what it had gotten him! Ignoring the tears that were streaming down Liz's face, he continued. "I heard what you told Kreiger your punishment was, and if you ask me, I think you got off _too easy_. Guess it could have been worse, at least if you're hidden away in some dead end office in the middle of Wisconsin, you shouldn't be able to cause too much trouble, although I doubt if that's gonna fix your attitude problem."

With that, Liz had had enough, and she exploded back, "At least I won't have to worry about running into you or any of those _misfits_ that work for you - some stupid, rich, over the hill jock, playing at being a federal agent, a soulless assassin that apparently even the Mossad doesn't want, a computer nerd who's still wet behind the ears, and a vampire wannabe!" she spat out at him. "And you, 'Mr. I'm Too Perfect For the Rest of You', if I _never _see your face again, it'll be _too soon_!" she all but screamed, then, deciding she could come back later, after everyone had left for the day to clean out her desk, she turned on her heels and stalked away as fast as she could.

Everyone just stood, frozen in the hall, watching her retreat. Finally it was Fornell who broke the silence. "Well, _that _was a nice way to say good bye," he snorted. "Looks like you've got a new president for your fan club, Jethro."

Fornell's joke snapped Gibbs out of it too, and he looked away from Liz. As he turned, he got a good look at Courtney, who had finally given in to the tears that had been threatening to fall ever since Liz had accused her of being responsible for everything that had gone wrong with the mission. "Hey," he said to her. "Don't let what Templeton said get to you. You didn't do _anything_ wrong. You assessed the situation correctly. Hell, you were the first person to realize there was a leak coming from here. Nothing that happened was in any way your fault." Then he gave her one of his rare smiles and a wink and said, "If you ever get tired of wearing a suit every day, you just let me know. There'll always be room on my team for you."

"Hey, no poaching!" Fornell said with mock ferocity. "I found her, you go find your own promising probie."

Gibbs just smirked at Fornell and said, "Gotta go. Keep me in the loop with the investigation Tobias."

"Hah, I'm betting you know something before me," Fornell snarked. "Take care, Gibbs. Tell DiNutzo I'll come see him sometime tomorrow."

Gibbs gave a little salute, and headed for the elevators, in a hurry to get back to Tony's side.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

It was 1800 by the time Gibbs strode back into Tony's hospital room. Looking around, he noticed things had changed while he was gone. There were several plants now decorating the window ledge, with get well cards interspersed between them. Five enormous helium filled balloons floated around the room unchecked, and an enormous three dimensional, crepe paper bat hung from the curtain rod above the window, which was draped in copious amounts of fake cobwebs. Tony lay in the bed, with Abby's stuffed, farting hippo, Bert, nestled in beside him, and Jenny and Ducky stood on either side of the bed, quietly visiting with him.

"Welcome back, Jethro," Ducky said, when he saw Gibbs. "How did the hearing go?"

"Alright," Gibbs said.

When he didn't offer any more information, Jenny asked, "So, what was decided?"

"She got suspended, demoted and transferred," Gibbs summarized succinctly.

"Well, that sounds about right," Ducky responded. "I'm afraid they've made firing squads illegal. Sometimes I wonder if that's really an advancement."

Gibbs just grunted, he didn't want to talk about the hearing or Templeton, and he _definitely _didn't want Tony obsessing about it. Changing the subject, he gestured towards the ghoulish decorations and observed, "I see Abby's been here."

"Yeah, she said it's never too early to decorate for Halloween, even if it is still September," Tony told him with a smile. "I think it's just because she likes bats."

"Where _is_ the crypt master?" Gibbs asked.

"Ah, you just missed her," Jenny told him. "She got a call from Courtney Kreiger, and after delivering a stern lecture to Tony about how he needed to behave and do everything the doctors and nurses told him to do, she hightailed it out of here. Apparently Agent Kreiger is now on loan to NCIS for the next two weeks, working with Abby and McGee on computer searches. Did you forget to tell me something, Jethro?" she asked. "Or did you just assume I wouldn't _notice_ another person spending all day long down in Abby's lab?"

"Sorry about that, Jen. I _tried_ to call you about it on my way over here, but Cynthia said you were out. I didn't really think you'd mind. They've got some scheme all planned out for how they're going to find Phelps and Cooper by searching for them electronically. I didn't really ask for the particulars," Gibbs told her, not really sounding very contrite.

"As if you'd understand the particulars," Jenny snorted. "Actually, I don't mind, although it would have been nice to be consulted about it, before Agent Kreiger was given the go-ahead. If the three of them are there now, working on this, I suppose I'd best head back to the Yard. I should probably check in with them, and make sure they understand that they are only allowed to break _one_ international law a day," she joked. Looking back at Tony, she said, "I'll try and stop in to see you tomorrow morning, although I hardly think you're going to get lonely. When I got here the waiting room on this floor was half full, and Ducky was standing in the middle of it, assigning numbers to your visitors in order of when they'd arrived. He has struck some kind of deal with the nurses, and no one is being allowed in to see you unless he has okayed it." She cast a quick glance at Gibbs and observed, "I have no idea how you slipped in, Jethro." With a smirk, she directed her attention back to Tony, "I was quite honored that he allowed me to skip ahead and come in to see you. But I should warn you, the last number I heard being handed out was nine, so I think you're going to be busy for the rest of the afternoon."

Tony groaned over that news, and smiled weakly. As Jenny turned to go, Gibbs just scowled. '_Nine people, possibly more, were out there waiting to come in?_ I wonder how many have already been here? Judging from all the crap in the room, I'm betting _too_ many!' he thought. Aloud he said, "We'll see about that. How many people have already been here today, Duck?" he asked. "You were supposed to make sure that Tony didn't wear himself out, _not _serve as the _social_ director."

"And I have endeavored to do _just _that, Jethro," Ducky huffed. "I have let three people in at a time to see Tony, and they are only allowed to stay for five minutes. I am also making sure that Tony rests for at least forty-five minutes out of every hour. Those that are out there now know that I have decreed that today's visiting hours for Tony end officially at five o'clock on the dot, and they've been asked to pass that information along. I really don't think I could do much more. I can't just send them away without a chance to say hello. Besides, Tony keeps falling asleep mid visit, which has served to reinforce the reason for my policy to his visitors."

"Do the doctors and nurses have to take numbers, too, Duck?" Gibbs snarked.

"Very amusing, Jethro," Ducky said. "As it so happens, we haven't been visited by any doctors since you left, although I expect they will be stopping by at some point around five, when they do their evening rounds. The nurses seem to have no problem _whatsoever_ shooing everyone out whenever they need to see to Tony_, including_ me, I might add." Gibbs was amused to see that Ducky seemed put out by that fact.

"It hasn't been too bad, really Gibbs," Tony piped up from the bed. "Keeps me from getting bored."

Gibbs knew that alone was probably worth what the constant influx of well-wishers was costing Tony, energy wise. A bored Tony was a _dangerous_ Tony, even when he _was _effectively chained to a bed. 'If he can't get himself into actual trouble, he'll just sit and stew, and get himself into emotional trouble,' he thought, remembering Brad's warning earlier in the day.

"I'm here now, so we're just going to have to see how long Ducky's plan stays in effect. If I think it's getting to be too much for you, visiting hours are going to be closing early today. This is your first day out of ICU, let's try to make sure you don't land right back up there," Gibbs grunted.

"That sounds reasonable. I have a feeling everyone will be more than willing to go along with whatever you decide," Ducky told Gibbs. "And since you're back, I believe I shall take myself off for now. I'm quite sure Tony is growing tired of me, and my stories. I will be back later, and I'll bring you something substantive to eat, Jethro. Oh, just so you know, the next group isn't scheduled to visit for another thirty-five minutes, so you'll have a bit of time alone," Ducky said, as he crossed to the visitor's chair and picked up his trench coat and fedora.

"Bye Ducks, and thanks," Gibbs told the older man as he prepared to leave.

"It was my pleasure," Ducky responded. "I shall see you both later, gentlemen," he said, as he jauntily placed his hat on his head and took his leave.

Once they were alone, Gibbs moved closer to Tony and took the time to really study him, as he softly rubbed his hand along Tony's jaw and neck.

"Have I changed much since you last saw me? You've only been gone for about three hours," Tony said in amusement.

Actually, Tony did look different to Gibbs. He looked even more exhausted than he had when Gibbs had left to go over to the Bureau, and Gibbs hadn't thought that possible. There were dark circles starting to form under his eyes which seemed overly bright, and he was too pale to suit Gibbs. "You look like you're on your last leg," Gibbs told him.

"Hah, show's how much you know. I'm on my back, not on a leg at all." Tony looked up at Gibbs and smiled. "No one will let me get on my legs."

"I wonder why?" Gibbs answered him. "Seriously though, Tony, you _do_ look exhausted. How's the pain? And don't bother lying to me, because I know you're experiencing some."

"What do you want me to say, Jethro? _Yes_, I'm in pain. Does that make you _happy_? There isn't much anyone can do about it though, so what's the point in discussing it?" Tony muttered.

"I could ask the nurses to increase your pain meds," Gibbs pointed out to him.

"NO! I don't want that. They just put me to sleep, and I'm tired of sleeping," Tony objected adamantly.

"You're just plain tired, and you don't need to be entertaining people for the next two hours," Gibbs answered, and then, straightening back up, he started to move towards the door. "_Fuck this Tony_. I'll be right back."

"Hey, where are you going?" Tony called to him.

"I'm changing Ducky's 'system'. I'll be right back," Gibbs said with finality.

Tony didn't get a chance to answer, as Gibbs was already gone. Sighing, he laid his head back against the pillow, trying to guess what Gibbs was up to. He wasn't sure exactly how long he'd been lying there, as he'd started to drift off, when he was jerked back into wakefulness as Gibbs, and ten of their fellow agents from NCIS crowded into the room.

"This is everyone that already had a number," Gibbs told him. "They each have _exactly_ 45 seconds to visit, and then visiting hours for today are _over_." Looking over at the agents, he said, "Time starts now."

To say it was a hurried and rather disjointed visit would be an understatement. Finally they fell into a kind of rhythm. One agent either ask a question or started to tell Tony about something that was going on at work, and if he or she ran out of time, the next one would pick up where the conversation had been left off. When ten minutes had passed, Gibbs announced that the visit was over, thanked everyone for coming to show Tony support, and summarily dismissed them, reminding them to call everyone else and let them know that Tony wouldn't be seeing anyone else until tomorrow. When the last person had left, Tony looked at Gibbs, raised his left eyebrow, and asked, "Are you going to ban Abby, McGee and Ziva, too?"

"Hadn't planned to. They've got enough sense to know when you've had enough. Plus, you don't always feel the need to put on your 'Happy Tony' face for them. Besides, there's no way in hell I could _keep _Abs out, even if I _wanted_ to," Gibbs told him.

"True," Tony agreed. "'Course, you just don't want her to beat _you_ up, too. So tell me more about the hearing. Did they call on you? What did you say?"

"No," Gibbs answered him.

"No, you're not going to tell me? It can't have been that bad," Tony said in a miffed voice.

"No. That's what I said when they called on me," Gibbs said, the side of his mouth quirking up slightly.

"You told them 'No', you weren't going to testify?" Tony asked in amazement.

"No," Gibbs said, and waited until Tony groaned in frustration before he elaborated. "When they asked me if I had anything to add to Fornell's summary of what happened out at Calverton, I told them 'No'," he clarified with a smirk.

"And?" Tony prompted.

"And when they asked me if I had anything to add to Fornell's accounting of the attitude Liz exhibited in the waiting room last Friday night, I told them 'No'," Gibbs answered.

"So that's it?" Tony asked.

"Just about. I didn't stay to hear the panel's ruling, I learned that later. When they adjourned to discuss the case, Fornell asked me if I was ready to leave, and I told him 'Yes'," Gibbs said, this time letting himself grin broadly.

"Smart ass," Tony snorted.

"You better believe it," Gibbs agreed. "Now that you know how my afternoon went, and I l know about yours, why don't you take a short nap? We've got all evening to talk. Sleep some now, so you feel up to visiting later," Gibbs urged.

"Yeah, I guess I could. You going to stay here?" he asked Gibbs.

"Right here. I'll just pull this chair up beside the bed, and maybe I'll take a nap, too," Gibbs told him, knowing that Tony would give in, if he thought that Gibbs was going to rest also.

After Gibbs got the chair situated, he reached an arm up, and slid it through the railing on the bed, until his hand rested lightly on Tony's belly. "Go to sleep now, Tony," he said softly, as he began to move his fingers in a gentle, slow motion across the softest part of Tony's stomach. He smiled as Tony let his eyes droop closed, although he didn't stop rubbing. Very quietly, he whispered, "Love you," and his smile became even wider when, without opening his eyes, Tony answered, "Love you too, Jethro."


	30. Chapter 30

"**A Friend in Need" – Chapter Thirty**

It had been six and a half weeks since Tony had been rescued from the basement of the house out in Calverton – six and a half of the longest weeks Gibbs had ever lived through. Six and a half weeks, and tomorrow Tony would step back into NCIS Headquarters for the first time since he and Liz Templeton had left that day, so long ago, to interview the residents of Barker's neighborhood. As he lay in bed, his arms crossed behind his head, waiting for Tony to come out of the bathroom, Gibbs thought back over everything that had happened over those weeks.

At first, while Tony had still been in the hospital, it had been Gibbs who had needed to be by Tony's side whenever possible, hoping the proximity could somehow make everything all right, could erase all the ugliness of what had happened. He'd spent hour after hour watching Tony while he slept. Sometimes he realized he was subconsciously keeping track of the rhythm of Tony's breathing and the beating of his heart. As they merged together they formed a non-musical symphony that Gibbs found oddly soothing. During Tony's waking hours, Gibbs sat in the hospital room virtually silent, but ever present, listening as Tony made small talk with visitors, shooing them out whenever Tony showed signs of fatigue. Then, once alone, Gibbs would read to Tony, or they'd work a crossword puzzle together until Tony drifted back to sleep. He spent his nights hunched in the hard vinyl covered armchair, which he drew up beside Tony's bed so he could occasionally touch him as he slept. The sound of the various monitors offered mechanical reassurances that Tony was still there, was alive and getting well. In the mornings, he risked leaving for an hour or so, to go home, clean up and change clothing, before he hurried back to start his daily routine all over again. He hadn't gone into the office, and no one bothered him with details of what was going on there. Jenny hadn't even questioned him when he'd put in for two weeks vacation, only nodded, and told him to let her know if he needed more time, as he had weeks coming to him. If Tony's visitors ever questioned his presence, it was never voiced aloud, and if Tony noticed Gibbs' almost manic need to be near him, he didn't mention it.

Another part of what had driven Gibbs to spend hour after hour at the hospital had been his fear of allowing Tony too much time alone, with nothing to distract him. He was well aware that those were the moments when all of Tony's personal demons came out to haunt him. He wasn't alone on this mission. Apparently the rest of the team, including Abby, must have had some sense of that as well. McGee had arrived Friday evening with a portable DVD player, and Ziva had appeared about an hour later, weighted down with a collection of Tony's favorite movies. When Tony had expressed amazement that she had known what movies to select, she'd joked that it was impossible not to, as he was always talking about some movie or another. Abby had skipped in not long after that, swinging a shopping bag that contained various books which she had picked up from Tony's apartment. She had selected the ones that looked the most dog eared, having correctly deduced that they must be Tony's favorites, the ones he read over and over again. All of these offerings had proven to be a boon, and a great deal of Tony's and Gibbs' alone time was spent with them either watching a movie together, or Gibbs reading aloud to Tony. Tony had first selected Douglas Adams' _A Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_, a book that he had correctly guessed that Gibbs would enjoy too.

However, not all of their time at the hospital had been sunshine and roses. Despite Gibbs' best efforts, there had been bad times as well. Fortunately, it hadn't been until Tony's condition had improved enough that the doctors began unhooking him from the various pieces of medical apparatus, and allowing him to get out of bed for very short periods of time, that the trouble began. Gibbs hadn't been prepared for the amount of pain Tony experienced from the simple act of walking, pain that was so great that it left Tony too weak to even attempt to disguise it. Gibbs had found it impossible to sleep that night, his empathic response to Tony's discomfort refusing him any rest. Mobility made the situation blatantly clear to Tony, as well. It wasn't the pain that seemed to disturb him, though; it was the fact that his attempts at mobility had highlighted the reality of his complete dependency on others to help him with even the most basic of tasks. An entire evening of tense silence had followed Tony's discovery that he needed Gibbs' help in the bathroom, despite Gibbs having pointed out that that region of Tony's anatomy was not exactly unchartered territory for him.

Gibbs had been afraid that Tony would openly rebel when the orthopedic specialist had informed Tony that his arms would have to stay in the slings for at least three weeks to give his shoulders time to heal properly. Tony had immediately started to look for loopholes and exceptions. He'd pleasantly agreed that would be fine most of the time, but had then immediately pointed out that of course there were going to be the occasional short periods of time when he would need to be able to move his arms freely. In rebuttal, the specialist gently reminded him that it wouldn't matter if his arms were free, since he couldn't use his hands for four more weeks. The realization that the casts were going to have to stay on for four more weeks led directly to the re-emergence of 'Mute Tony.' Gibbs wasn't surprised when Tony spent that afternoon offering up only the most minimal of responses required to everything said to him, and his confused visitors had all found reasons for cutting their visits short. Tony's dreams that night had been unpleasant, and Gibbs had awakened him several times when he was in the throes of some nightmare, only to have Tony refuse to discuss the details with him.

Then there had been the ugly day when the doctors had wanted Gibbs to watch the nurses clean and rebandage the wounds on Tony's back and legs, since he was going to be the primary caregiver once Tony was released. Although he'd been in the room before when they had replaced the dressings, Gibbs had never really studied the damage. Once he saw it, he knew that nothing anyone, including Brad, had said about them could have adequately prepared him for how truly gruesome they were. Gibbs had carefully schooled his face, but he must have been a hair too slow. Once the nurses had left, Tony had demanded that Gibbs provide an exact description of the damage. Gibbs had glossed over the details by saying that he'd never seen one human being covered in a greater variety of purple, green and yellow bruises. He had hoped that by making light of it, Tony wouldn't pursue the subject. He really didn't want to have to describe the deep lacerations that crisscrossed each other up and down Tony's body. That piece of information could wait to be shared until they got home, where they could deal with it in private, Gibbs had decided.

Finally, a week and a half after he first arrived, the day for Tony to leave the hospital had arrived. So flawlessly had Gibbs orchestrated his days in the hospital, keeping him entertained and distracted, that despite the few bad moments, Tony hadn't really had the time or energy to dwell overlong on what it would be like when he got home. As a matter of fact, leaving had been all Tony had chattered about since the doctors had informed them the day before that Tony would get to go home the next day. He had talked about the pizza he wanted to eat, the cable shows he wanted to catch up on, how hard it was going to be getting back into a running routine, the half hour long shower he was going to take, how good it would feel to be in real clothes again – the litany of things he missed had gone on and on – and Gibbs hadn't had the heart to point out that many of the things Tony was looking forward to were still going to be out of his reach. Suddenly, however, as he'd sat on the side of the bed, both arms still in slings and his wrists encircled in casts, dressed in a loose set of sweats, watching helplessly as Gibbs packed up the room, taking load after load down to the car, reality had come crashing back in – being home was just going to be a new environment in which he would continue to be useless. Gibbs had known the minute Tony began to silently panic. He'd seen it on his face, as his eyes had momentarily widened and his lips had tightened, although Tony had quickly tried to cover by plastering a wide vacant smile on his face, but there was nothing he could do about the tell-tale sudden absence of color to his skin. Even Tony's attempt at humor, a crack about Gibbs needing to be careful that he didn't pull his back out, since he wasn't as young as he used to be, lacked Tony's usual flash and sparkle.

As Gibbs lay on the bed, he remembered how he'd put the bag of stuffed animals he'd been holding down, had walked over and cupped Tony's chin, forcing Tony to look him directly in the eye, and said, "Hey, knock it off. Whatever you're imagining right now, just let it go. It's going to be okay. We're going to get through this just fine, because we're going to do it together. You've always got my back, and this time, I've got yours. Besides, I kinda like the idea of you being at my mercy for three whole weeks. I can think of all sorts of interesting possibilities that will provide. Who knows, you might even like some of them," he'd told Tony with an exaggerated leer. He knew he'd been at least partially successful when the pallor of Tony's skin was replaced by a rosy flush. "That's good," he'd nodded. "Now, hold that thought while this old man takes the last load of crap you've managed to accumulate down to the car, then we'll get out of here. Maybe if you're lucky, and I'm not exhausted, due to my advanced old age, we can start investigating some of the more promising opportunities this whole situation offers up, once we get home."

As Gibbs lounged, thinking back on that day, he realized for the first time that he and Tony had never discussed where 'home' was, not even once. Both he and Tony had been excited that he was being released, and they'd both talked about how nice it would be when Tony got 'home,' but there had been no conversation about whether Gibbs would be taking him to his house, or back to Tony's apartment. Gibbs stared over at the bathroom, as if he could somehow see through the closed door and directly into Tony's head. 'Did Tony realize that as well?' Gibbs wondered. 'Has our relationship moved to a completely different level at some point and I just missed it? What was it Tony said? Oh yeah, "Maybe you should buy a clue." Yeah, maybe I should buy a clue,' Gibbs silently chided himself. 'Exactly when did this house become home - home not to just me, but rather, home for us?' It wasn't as if Tony hadn't spent a great deal of time at Gibbs' house before all this had happened. Hell, he had spent more nights sleeping in Gibbs' bed than his own for several years now. It was just that occasionally, particularly when he had been out with friends for the evening, Tony opted to spend the night at his apartment, rather than come back to Gibbs' house That had always served to remind Gibbs that Tony was his own person, with his own set of friends, who didn't need Gibbs to make him complete. Gibbs hadn't objected to that reminder. Although now that he was really thinking about it, Gibbs realized it had actually been several months since Tony had done much more than swing by his apartment to pick up some things to bring back to Gibbs' house. Now, as he lay there thinking, Gibbs couldn't recall the last time Tony had slept in his own apartment. Tony's injuries hadn't necessitated his moving in here with Gibbs, it had already happened, and they'd just never talked about it. Hell, they hadn't even noticed it.

It wasn't as if Gibbs didn't love Tony, even though he'd had a hard time saying it very often. Tony wasn't all that quick to offer up the words, either. Actually, it was pretty funny, really, when you thought about it - Tony, with all his verbal hyperbole, being the one who was more reticent to express his feelings out loud. Even without hearing the words often, though, there was an understanding between the two of them. So when had things changed? Gibbs had said 'I love you' more in the last sex weeks, than he had in all the combined years since Kelly and Shannon had been killed. At first, when Tony had been hurt, he'd said it quietly, more to himself than to Tony, needing to say the words aloud, using them as a reason for why Tony couldn't die. Then things had gotten better, and it became clear that Tony wasn't going to die, but Gibbs kept saying it, although now, the words were always directed at Tony. The sound of the shower being turned off in the bathroom jogged something in Gibbs' memory, and he suddenly realized he knew the exact moment that had changed.

Tony had been hungry when they'd gotten back to Gibbs' house on the afternoon he'd been released from the hospital, so Gibbs had made them an early dinner, which Tony had devoured. After they'd eaten, Gibbs had ignored Tony's demands that Gibbs show him just how happy he was to have him home, and had insisted that Tony take a nap, knowing that Tony couldn't help but be tired. For the last week and a half, he'd done little more than lie in a bed, and even that had worn him out. Tony had fussed, but Gibbs had won out, and together they'd gone up to the bedroom and lain down. Gibbs smiled to himself as he remembered the way Tony had nestled next to him, and how good it had felt to be in his own bed, with Tony back beside him. It hadn't been perfect, the slings had made it difficult for Tony to find a position that was comfortable, and still allowed him to be as close to Gibbs as he wanted to be, but finally they'd succeeded. Once Tony's head was resting on Gibbs' left shoulder, and Gibbs had his hand wrapped loosely around Tony's head, his fingers lazily coursing through Tony's hair, it hadn't taken long for Tony to drift off to sleep. Once asleep, Tony had stayed that way for sixteen hours straight, not waking again until the middle of the next morning.

When Tony woke up, Gibbs had helped him perform all of the necessary first thing in the morning chores, then they'd both headed back into the bedroom. Tony, who was now wearing nothing but his slings, bandages and a clean pair of sweatpants, had stretched out on his back on the bed, and had laid there, watching Gibbs as he moved around the room. "So, here I am," Tony had said, wiggling his eyebrows, "back in bed. Gonna prove to me that you missed me?"

Gibbs turned around and gazed at Tony, his body immediately beginning to signal his interest. Gibbs had shucked his clothes and crossed over to the bed. "Technically I didn't miss you," he had told Tony, as he knelt on the bed, his legs straddling Tony's and his arms resting on the bed to either side of Tony's shoulders. "I was right there at the hospital with you, so it would have been kind of hard to miss you."

"So you're going to tell me you didn't miss this?" Tony had asked softly, his eyes dark with desire, and his cheeks lightly flushed. Then he'd sat up far enough to allow him to press his lips to Gibbs. "Or this?" he'd murmured, as he drew a leg up and rubbed it against Gibbs' groin.

Gibbs had leaned into the kiss, allowing Tony to sink back down onto the pillows. "Maybe just a little," he said in between nibbles, as his mouth traversed the chiseled line of Tony's jaw.

"Mmhmm," Tony had said, as he tipped his head back, offering his neck to Gibbs, who immediately accepted the invitation and began to work his way down, his teeth nipping lightly, and his lips soothing any tiny hurt his teeth might have caused.

When Gibbs had gotten to the base of Tony's neck, his mouth had made contact with the strap of one of the slings. He'd looked up at Tony. "I'll take these off for right now, but you have to promise me you won't move your arms around much."

"Promise," Tony had said, and he'd sighed in appreciation as Gibbs had begun to unhook the straps on the slings.

Once they were off, and Tony's elbows had sunk down until they were resting on the bed, Gibbs had began to run kisses along the indentations the straps had left on Tony's neck and shoulders, causing Tony to shiver in response. Gibbs had felt the tips of Tony's fingers, which stuck out of the casts, rub against his forearms. Wanting to prevent Tony from moving his arms, he'd moved his head and gently sucked the tip of Tony's index finger into his mouth, tracing the pad with his tongue; he then repeated the process with each finger on Tony's left hand. Tony had moaned softly in response, and lifted his hips, pushing his erection against Gibbs. "All in good time," Gibbs had said, releasing Tony's finger, and with no warning, enveloping Tony's left nipple in his mouth.

Tony's back had arched in response, his breath catching in his throat. "God, I've missed this," Tony had moaned, as Gibbs slowly worked his way over to the other hard nub on Tony's chest.

Gibbs remembered how he'd taken his time, tracing his tongue over every inch of Tony's chest, before he'd carefully eased the sweatpants off of Tony's body, hyperaware of the tape and bandages that covered almost every inch of Tony's back and thighs. Gibbs hadn't trusted Tony to be mindful of his wounds; he was too consumed by lust to even properly feel any pain. That had been Gibbs' goal. He'd wanted Tony to forget everything that had happened, if only for a little while, yet he'd known that would mean it was up to him to be alert for any signs of undue discomfort from Tony. He'd kissed, nipped and suckled his way up Tony's legs, until finally, his mouth had found its target. He'd sucked the tip of Tony's leaking cock into his mouth, twirling his tongue around the edge of the helmet in just the way he knew Tony loved. Gibbs had taken the whimpers and small mewling sounds coming from Tony as indications of his approval. Gibbs had spent what seemed liked hours playing with Tony, bringing him just to the brink of completion, then backing off long enough for the need to pass, before he once again drove him to the edge. Finally, when Tony was making guttural, incoherent sounds, and his body had begun to quiver, Gibbs had taken mercy. Reaching down and grasping his own cock in one hand, he'd stroked it up and down as his mouth had mimicked the motion around Tony's swollen shaft. They'd come at almost the same time, long, hard, and intense - both their bodies needing the release they'd been denied for so long. Once he'd caught his breath, Gibbs had carefully wormed his way back up Tony's body, and captured his mouth with his own in a fierce and passionate kiss. When their lips finally parted, he'd given Tony a smart-alecky smirk and allowed, "So maybe I missed you more than just a little."

Tony had smiled back up at him, his eyes still slightly glazed. "Knew it," he'd panted.

Gibbs had bent down for another quick kiss, before sighing reluctantly, and pushing himself up and off of Tony. "Be right back," he'd said, as he headed in to the bathroom to get a warm rag to clean them both off. By the time he'd gotten back to the bed, Tony's eyes were closed, and the gentle breathing had told Gibbs that he was fast asleep. Gibbs had run the wash cloth along Tony's body, cleaning away the last vestiges of their love making, then, after tossing the rag onto the floor, he'd crawled over Tony's body and slid into bed next to him, pulling the covers up, and resting a hand on Tony's belly. It hadn't taken long for him to follow Tony into the land of slumber.

That was the happy part of the memory, Gibbs thought with regret. What had come later hadn't been nearly as pleasant. Gibbs had awakened from his nap with a start, disoriented and momentarily confused about where he was. He'd been dead to the world, so deeply asleep that a bomb could probably have gone off and he wouldn't have known about it. He had become so used to catnapping in that hard chair at the hospital, that the luxury of being back in his own bed, with Tony warm by his side, had drugged him more deeply than any sleeping pill. It had taken him a few seconds to get his bearings, but once he did, he'd realized he was alone. Tony wasn't in the bed next to him. The next thing he'd registered on was the sound of the shower coming from the bathroom. That had driven Gibbs out of the bed and onto his feet in record time. Tony wasn't supposed to take a shower yet; the doctor had said he wanted to give the wounds another few days before they got wet. Tony had known that!

Gibbs had pushed the partially closed bathroom door open, fully prepared to ball Tony out. Instead, what he had seen made him stop in his tracks. Broken shards of mirrored glass littered the floor, the pieces mingling with the stained bandages that had once covered Tony's legs and back. So much for waiting until Tony was settled back in to gently tell him about the extent of the damage the whip had done to him. 'I should have known I couldn't hide this from him. God damn it!' Gibbs had cursed silently to himself. Gibbs had leaned into the room and reached over to the towel rack, grabbed a towel, and had thrown it down onto the floor in front of him. Then, very carefully using his foot, Gibbs had used the towel to push the glass directly in front of him to the side, clearing enough away that he could step safely into the bathroom and open the door to the small closet along the wall, in which they kept a broom. Once armed with the broom, Gibbs had made short work of sweeping the glass to the side, so that he could make his way over to the shower. When he had pulled the shower curtain back he'd found Tony sitting in a ball on the floor of the tub. His arms had been wrapped around his stomach, with his legs drawn up next to them, and his forehead had been resting on his knees.

"Tony," he'd said softly, not wanting to startle him. Tony hadn't responded, had not even given any indication that he'd heard Gibbs. "Tony," Gibbs had tried again, that time saying his name a little louder. Tony's head had remained buried against his legs. Gibbs had stood outside the tub, looking down at him. He hadn't been sure what alarmed him the most – the fact that Tony wasn't responding to him, the watered down blood that was running in rivulets along the bottom of the tub towards the drain, or the soaking wet casts at the end of each of Tony's unsecured arms. Finally, when two more attempts at getting Tony's attention had failed, Gibbs had reached over and turned the shower off. He'd then climbed in behind Tony.

"Don't touch me!" Tony had hissed when Gibbs had placed a hand on either side of Tony's waist, intending to help him stand up.

"You can't stay in here. You're going to get sick all over again," Gibbs had said firmly but gently.

"I don't give a fuck!" Tony had spit out, still not lifting up his head. If anything, he'd drawn himself into a tighter ball.

"Well, I do," Gibbs had answered him. "Come on now, Tony. Let me help you up."

"How can you even stand to look at me?" Tony had demanded, finally looking up, and fixing Gibbs with an accusatory glare.

"I like to look at you," Gibbs had told him, struggling to keep his voice calm and even, as he had slowly let go of Tony, afraid that the younger man would try to wrench away from his grasp and reinjure his shoulders. He'd seen Tony angry, depressed, or hurt before, but he'd never seen the level of self-loathing that had been stamped all over Tony's face at that moment.

"Maybe once," Tony had responded in choked voice, "but now I look like a fucking freak, like a package of ground meat."

"It'll heal Tony, it's just going to take time," he'd tried to reassure him.

"Bullshit! This isn't going to just disappear. I saw it Gibbs. All of it. There's no way in hell that's going to go away. It's going to be there forever! It'll be a constant reminder that I'm a stupid fuck who let himself get grabbed one time too many. That's what you'll think about when you look at it," Tony had sneered, then he'd turned his head away again.

'So that is it,' Gibbs had thought. He's been privately blaming himself for letting this happen. 'No wonder he hasn't complained once about the pain. He thinks he deserves it,' Gibbs had suddenly realized. "Is that what you think, Tony? That you brought this on yourself?" he'd demanded.

When Tony hadn't answered him, he'd pressed on. "That's why you were pushing for leniency with Templeton, isn't it - because you'd decided all the blame rested with you? Well, here's a news flash for you. No one else sees it that way. Everyone else is impressed with your bravery. We know from the interviews with the perps that you never broke, never gave away a single piece of information about the investigation. Jenny and the Director over at the Bureau have already discussed the formal commendations you're going to receive for your actions on this case, commendations that stem from the bravery you displayed while being held captive. Do you think they'd be doing that if they thought there was anything you could have done to avoid it, or if you hadn't conducted yourself with honor?"

Tony had at least looked at him again, after hearing that. Not willing to leave it at that, though, Gibbs had continued, moving on to what was more important. "As to your back, yeah, you're probably going to have scars. So what? Do you think that all I care about is what you look like? Do you really think I'm that shallow? I love YOU, Tony. YOU – the way you think, the way you feel things, the way you make me feel– that's what I love. Do you understand?" he'd demanded. He waited until Tony had reluctantly nodded his head, and then said. "The attractive wrapping paper is nice, but I don't love it. There are lots of pretty boys in the world, but I don't love them. I reserve that for you, and that's not going to change, just because the skin on your back and legs isn't flawless."

By that point Tony's teeth had begun to chatter, as he sat hunched, shivering on the floor of the tub. "Come on, let's get you out of here," Gibbs had said, and once again reached down to help Tony stand up. This time Tony didn't fight him. Once Gibbs had him standing up, he'd surveyed him for damage. There had been a couple of minor cuts on Tony's right arm, and Gibbs had surmised that had been the arm that had crashed into the full length mirror. Some of the scabs on Tony's back had been pulled off, which accounted for the blood that he'd seen mixing with the water from the shower, but other than those two things, Tony looked relatively unharmed. He hadn't lowered his arms from where he had them clutched to his stomach, and Gibbs assumed that was because to hold them any other way hurt his shoulders, but he hadn't asked at that point. Right then, his goal had been to simply get Tony out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom. Once he'd achieved that, he could apply first aid, rebandage and redress Tony.

He'd guided the now compliant, but silent, Tony out past the broken glass, and steered him directly to the bed. He'd known he was making progress, but that he wasn't on solid ground yet; that wouldn't happen until Tony was talking freely again, and it had looked to him as though they were still a fair distance away from that. Gibbs had quickly yanked the covers back and said, "Lie down on your stomach, and I'll go get new dressings for your back." Tony had mutely obeyed; the only sound he'd made was an almost inaudible gasp when he'd jarred his arms while positioning himself for Gibbs. It had taken Gibbs almost ten minutes to get bandages back in place, and then he'd instructed Tony to roll over. Once he had the covers pulled up so that they partially covered Tony's naked and shivering body, he'd very gently reached over to straighten Tony's right arm so that he could inspect the new cuts. "Not your finest hour," he'd commented to Tony, as he checked for any remaining glass shards. "I'd have thought you had enough cuts and bruises. Good thing you had the cast on, or the damage would probably have been worse." Tony had just lain there, watching Gibbs as he worked.

Finally everything had been patched up, and all that was left to do was to get Tony dressed and the slings repositioned. Gibbs hadn't been over worried about achieving that immediately though, since the blankets seemed to have done the trick in warming Tony up, and he wasn't doing any moving that might strain his shoulders. Gibbs had taken the time to clean up the debris from his ministrations, letting Tony rest under the warmth of the covers. When everything was tidy again, he'd gone and sat on the side of the bed next to Tony.

"You ready to talk some more about this now?" he'd asked.

"Nothing more to say," Tony had muttered.

"Oh, I think there is," Gibbs had responded. "So far, it's been just me that's done the talking. Want to tell me what in the hell happened in there?"

"You know what happened." Tony had looked away from Gibbs.

"I know you pulled the bandages off, got upset, and broke the mirror," Gibbs had agreed. "What I don't know is what you hoped to accomplish– why you did it," he'd pressed.

"I had to see for myself." Then he'd paused, as if searching for the words. "I could feel the cuts and welts, but I didn't know what they looked like. No one talked about them, but I couldn't get them out of my head. I just had to know," Tony had reluctantly admitted.

Gibbs had sighed. "That was my mistake," he'd told Tony. "I made the call not to discuss them with you while you were still in the hospital. I figured there wasn't anything to be done about them, so why worry you over something that couldn't be helped. I'd planned to talk to you about them today. Obviously, I waited too long."

Tony had shaken his head. "No, you weren't wrong. This is all on me. I'm the one who freaked out, and overreacted, not you. You were just trying to help."

"Why does it always have to be your fault? Maybe it wasn't really anyone's fault. I thought I was protecting you, and you didn't want to be protected. Let's leave it at that. Why'd you break the mirror, Tony?" he'd asked again.

Silence. Tony hadn't made a sound.

"Tony?"

"I don't know."

"I think you do," Gibbs had pushed.

"I panicked, okay? You happy now?" Tony had snapped.

"Why? What made you panic?" Gibbs had known the answer, he'd even addressed part of it earlier, but he knew they had to go back over it now that Tony was more himself, if anything was really going to get resolved.

"I already told you. It's hideous, and I know it'll scar."

"So that's why you panicked?" Gibbs had asked him.

Tony had lain there, chewing at his bottom lip, and staring up at the ceiling. Finally he'd said, "I was scared."

"Scared I'd think it was ugly?" Gibbs had needed him to fully explain his thought process.

After a long pause, Tony had said softly, "Afraid I was going to lose everything …….. you……….afraid you wouldn't want us to be the same way anymore ……… afraid I'd be alone."

'There it is at last!' Gibbs had thought. "And what did I tell you?" he'd asked Tony aloud.

Tony had rolled his eyes and said flippantly, "That you loved me."

"Don't you believe me?" Gibbs had asked him, watching Tony's face intently.

"Yeah, I do," Tony had said, but the answer had been too easy, too quick.

Suddenly Gibbs had gotten it. Despite all the bragging, vanity, and posturing, Tony didn't really love himself, so he couldn't wrap his head around the idea that someone else could love him. He remembered how Tony had jumped when he'd reached out and placed a hand on each of Tony's cheeks. "I do love you," he'd said, refusing to let go of Tony's face. Tony hadn't said anything. "I do," Gibbs had repeated. Tony had rolled his eyes once again in response. "I love you," Gibbs had said yet again. This time Tony's eyes had started to fill, and he'd slammed his lids shut, trying to stop the tears from falling. Gibbs had let one hand begin to stroke Tony's face, and he'd lowered his head until his lips were right above Tony's. "I love you," he'd whispered, again and again until finally the tears had begun to leak out from around Tony's closed lids. Once that had started, Gibbs had stopped whispering and had lowered his head down the rest of the way, until he could gently kiss Tony. Tony hadn't responded, and Gibbs had just continued to lightly kiss his lips until finally Tony had shuddered and sobbed, and began to kiss Gibbs back.

'That was when everything had changed,' Gibbs thought, as he stretched on the bed, back in the present again. Ever since that morning, he had taken every opportunity that presented itself to remind Tony that he loved him. He said it every night before they went to sleep, and then again in the morning when they got up. When he bullied Tony to do something he knew he wouldn't want to, he reminded him he was only doing it because he loved Tony. When Tony woke up in the middle of the night from a nightmare, Gibbs would hold him and tell him everything would be fine, that he was there and he loved him. He'd told Tony he loved him when he had to finally admit that it looked as if Phelps and Cooper had managed to slip through their fingers, although he thought that he had been more upset by that piece of information than Tony had been. When he'd gone with Tony to the psychiatrist's office for the first time, he'd whispered it in his ear right before they'd gone into the interview room.

He'd said it so many times, in fact, in so many different situations, that the unimaginable had happened. It had finally become easy for him to say. So easy, in fact, that sometimes, if he wasn't censoring himself, it just slipped out. He remembered the afternoon Abby had come over to watch movies with Tony, while Gibbs ran a series of errands. As he'd gathered up his keys to go, he'd casually looked over at Tony and said, "Be back soon. Love ya," without even thinking about the fact that Abby had been sitting right next to Tony. Of course she'd squealed with delight, and Gibbs had just grinned as he'd made his escape, leaving Tony to deal with all her exuberance and questions. Actually, in hind sight, it had probably been good for Tony to have to explain it out loud to her.

'The words didn't come as easily to Tony, and maybe they never would,' Gibbs thought. He had no doubt that Tony loved him – if it was possible, then Tony's greater failing was that he loved Gibbs too much. Tony viewed their love with awe and wonder. Gibbs understood that it stemmed from Tony not having been loved enough when he was young. The love he'd been presented with had strings attached to it, and he'd been told he had to earn it, and then work to retain it. That was what had precipitated the melt down that day in the bathroom. Tony was worried that Gibbs would take his love away, declare him unlovable, for a host of reasons which the wounds on his back somehow made visible. They were still working on that with the therapist, although they'd made real strides in the right direction, and Gibbs had hopes that eventually they'd manage to lick it, together.

Now, here it was, Tuesday night, the night before Tony finally got to go back to work. When the casts had come off last Friday, Tony had set this Wednesday as his target date for returning to NCIS, and the doctors had all decreed it doable. He'd be limited to desk duty, of course, until his strength was back to normal, and he could pass the physical, but even the prospect of being chained to the Bullpen looked better to Tony than spending one more day trapped at home. He'd gotten more and more restless as today had progressed. By 1600, he had already picked out what he was going to wear, and was busily plotting what practical jokes he could play on McGee and Ziva when they were away, out in the field with Gibbs. He and Abby had had three phone conversations, with her briefing him on every case she was working on, so he could already be thinking about them before he got there in the morning, and he'd been disappointed that Gibbs didn't have an active case at the moment. Gibbs was glad that tomorrow was fast approaching. He wasn't sure that Tony wouldn't spontaneously combust if he had to wait much longer.

"Are you ever coming out of there?" Gibbs called to the closed bathroom door.

"Just a couple more seconds," Tony had answered.

"I'd like to get a little sleep tonight," Gibbs grumbled.

Tony opened the door to the bathroom, wearing just a towel. "I heard that. Are you sure you want to go to sleep right now?" he asked, as he pulled the towel off his body and crossed over to the bed.

"I might be convinced to put it off for a little while," Gibbs conceded with a smirk.

"I was hoping you'd feel that way," Tony said, as he lowered himself on top of Gibbs. "Maybe you should lose those sweatpants?" he suggested.

"Maybe," Gibbs agreed, as he reached up and flipped Tony over, so that he was now lying on top.

"I was actually hoping we could do something besides wrestle," Tony quipped from underneath Gibbs, "but if this is what you really want to do…."

"What was it you wanted to do, Tony?" Gibbs asked. "Was it this?" He rolled his hips against Tony's.

"Mmmm, ya, that's a lot closer," Tony groaned.

"Closer? Oh, I can get closer," Gibbs said. Then he kicked Tony's legs apart, lowered himself between them, and began to rub his groin up and down against Tony's. Tony's response was to draw his knees up, and wrap his legs around Gibbs' hips, pulling them even tighter together. This time it was Gibbs' who groaned, and Tony who smirked.

They carried on that way, lightheartedly teasing each other until the need got to be too strong, and their lovemaking grew serious and driven. When they were both sated, Gibbs spooned up against Tony, his fingers ghosting up and down Tony's back, paying no heed to the scars. Tony was making little moans of encouragement, reveling in the intimacy of Gibbs' touch, still basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking. "I love you," Tony murmured to Gibbs, as he lay there. "You know that, right?"

"Yeah, Tony. I know that," Gibbs said, smiling to himself, "and I love you."

"I know," Tony said, with real conviction, as he turned in Gibbs' arms so that he could kiss him softly on the lips. "That's what makes everything else all right."

As they lay there, wrapped up together, waiting for sleep to come, Gibbs thought to himself that Tony was right. Everything else was going to be alright.


	31. Chapter 31

"**A Friend in Need" – Epilogue**

"What are you grinning about?" Maria, the assistant manager of the spa asked her best masseuse, Alonzo, who was looking out the window.

"Mr. Barker," Alonzo replied. "He was just in for his daily massage, and I was watching him as he walked back to his place. He got out there just in time to run into Mrs. B, who must have been in town shopping, cause now he's loaded down with bags, and she's walking along beside him empty handed, talking his ear off."

Maria came over to the window to have a peek. "He doesn't look as if he minds too much. He's grinning ear to ear. Newlyweds," she said with a chuckle.

"Are they newlyweds?" Alonzo asked her. Despite the fact he'd given Mr. Barker a massage almost every day since he and his wife had arrived three weeks ago, he still didn't know very much about the man. He was always courteous, and more than generous with his tips, but he wasn't what one would describe as chatty.

"They must be – older man, pretty young wife – they've already been here three weeks, and Philip, in booking, says they've leased their villa for four months, with an option to extend if they want. He must be retired; we get lots of rich Americans here, but they usually only come for a week or two. They seem to be settling in, and look at the way he spoils her. That woman is always shopping, and he doesn't seem to mind. She has to have been in every single shop in Cebu by now. Bet he's glad they didn't decide to stay in Manila – she could have shopped there for a whole year, and never gone to the same store more than once! She seems to find something to buy at every place she goes in to. Do you know, the other day I was taking a walk and saw the delivery truck from that new electronics store outside their place, and they were delivering all this fancy computer stuff?! Most people make do with just a laptop."

"Maybe she does her work over the internet," Alonzo suggested. "Even if he's retired, she's still too young to be. For all we know, she could be the one who's making all the money."

"She'd have to have a pretty good job. That villa they're staying in costs twelve thousand American dollars a week, and that's just the beginning of what they're spending," Maria said, envy creeping into her voice. "They go out to eat almost every night, they're renting a car, and we both know the kind of charges he's accumulating here at the spa." Shaking their heads over the spend thriftiness of the rich, they both looked back out the window and watched as Mr. and Mrs. Barker disappeared down the path that led to their private abode.

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"So, how was your morning?" Peter asked Sylvia, as they climbed the steps that led to the front door of their rental, which was named the Riverboat Suite. It was a two-bedroom cottage built on stilts over flowing water, beautifully shaded with spreading acacia trees. As he opened the door, Peter took a moment to look around in appreciation. The cottage wasn't something he would have picked out, if left completely to his own devises, but he couldn't deny the charm of the place. It was an amalgamation of the traditional Filipino style of architecture, with some early Japanese influences thrown in for good measure. The flooring was bamboo, and the pagoda shaped roof was slated in nipa leaves. The master bedroom featured a private Jacuzzi, and views of the glorious waterfalls that emptied into Mogambo Springs, the body of water after which the spa was named. The furnishings were casual, most of the furniture was rattan, but the tropical print cushions were made of the finest cottons and silks, and the colors were muted and tasteful. The rooms, although not palatial, were more than adequate in size, allowing them plenty of room to entertain, should they ever desire. They had converted the second bedroom into a study/office, and had equipped it with all of the computer equipment Sylvia was accustomed to using. They'd chosen that room, not wanting to mar the vintage Filipino charm of the rest of the cottage with the ultramodern electronics.

It was Sylvia who had stumbled across the resort on the internet, when she'd been researching places for them to settle down for awhile. The Philippines was perfect for their needs. Over 90% of the population spoke English, and more importantly, the Philippines did not have an extradition treaty with the United States. It had taken them four days to leave the States after the kidnapping operation had blown up in their faces. They'd first taken a leased boat down to North Carolina, and from there they'd chartered a private jet and flown to Dallas. Shedding both the jet and the identities they'd used in Texas, they'd chartered yet another jet and flown to Hawaii. Once in Hawaii, they'd assumed two other identities, complete with passports, and had flown to Hong Kong. From there it had been a short flight to the Philippines. It was amazing how easy it was to move around, leaving no real trail, as long as you had plenty of cash to pave your way; and cash was something Peter and Sylvia had in excess. Since all of their partners were now guests of the FBI, there was no longer any need to share any of the money they had collected from the ransoms, so Sylvia and Peter were now millionaires many times over. Actually, as sad as Peter had been knowing that Richard would never get to spend another day as a free man, Peter couldn't quibble with the results of his incarceration. Having both the money, and Sylvia, made up for any lingering regrets he might have felt.

"I need a day off from shopping," Sylvia said with a grunt, as she collapsed on the sofa in the living room and slid her shoes off so that she could massage her aching feet.

Peter dropped the bags, and laughed as he sat down beside her, pulling her legs up onto his lap so he could rub the soles of her feet for her. "You might be the only woman in the world who is bored with shopping, which just proves that you're special. I think you can afford to take a couple of days off. Everyone here now looks at us as just another silly, rich American couple, with more money than sense, and therefore not worth a second glance. What do you say we just hole up here for a few days, order room service, and work on reinforcing the notion that we're newlyweds who can't get enough of each other?"

"Do we have to work on that? I thought it was true," Sylvia said with a seductive smile, as she wiggled her toes at Peter.

Peter leaned over to kiss her, letting the kiss move from light and flirtatious to something more intense, filled with promises of things to come. "I could spend forever here with you, and not need anything more," he told her when he finally pulled away. "Let's take this to the bedroom, why don't we?"

Sylvia gave him one deeper kiss, and then stood. Holding out her hand to him to help him up, she said, "Forever together, yes – forever here, no. Once we're sure it's safe, we're going to buy that estate you dreamed about, maybe in the south of France. Then, who knows, maybe we can even talk about having a family of our own. This is paradise, but I think we'd both get bored with it eventually." As Peter stood and wrapped his arms around her, she continued, "I know you'll miss your daily massages, but I think I can make that up to you. I might not be able to provide you with the same variety of types the spa has, but you can't get one here from a naked masseuse, which is something I'm willing to offer. I'll be more than willing to warm up your aching muscles," she told him as she led him to the bedroom.

When they were done with their lovemaking, they lay wrapped around each other, basking in the afterglow. "I hate to get up," Sylvia murmured into Peter's chest.

"Then don't," he told her, tightening his hold on her.

"I have to," Sylvia sighed. "I need to crank up the computers and do my daily check on what's happening with the search for us by the FBI and NCIS. It's been a little over a month now, and they still haven't gotten even a whiff of us. I'm betting they'll stop looking soon, and we'll be free to go where ever we want. NCIS has already stopped looking for us with any regularity, and as far as I can tell, the FBI only has two people working on it now. They can both run traces for Peter Phelps and Sylvia Cooper from now until hell freezes over; they aren't going to find anything. We just need to have them stop screening arrivals and departures from all the larger international airports, and checking immigration reports. Then we won't have to move around like fugitives."

"We are fugitives," Peter reminded her with a small chuckle. "A regular Bonnie and Clyde."

"Yes, but Bonnie and Clyde got shot to death, and I don't intend to have that happen to us," Sylvia pointed out, as she tilted her head up to kiss him lightly. "This won't take me long. Why don't you stay here and take a short nap. Maybe by the time I'm done, you'll be ready for a Jacuzzi, and then an encore performance," she said saucily, then she stood and walked over to grab a peach silk robe from the vanity chair that sat across the room.

Peter lay in bed and watched her appreciatively, a contented smile on his face.

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In the back of a bar in Washington, D.C., not far from the Naval Yard, Tim McGee and Abby Sciuto sat nursing a beer, Abby scanning the crowd and McGee fidgeting in his chair, looking slightly put out. "Okay, I waited all day to find out, so now tell me what this is all about?" McGee demanded of Abby.

"Not until the others get here," she said firmly, and drew her hand across her lips, as if zipping up an invisible zipper.

"At least tell me who else we're expecting, then maybe I can figure it out for myself if you're not going to say anything more," he grunted in frustration.

"I don't have to, Mr. Impatience, here they come now!" Abby said brightly, as she stood, and put her thumb and middle finger up by her mouth, and whistled loudly.

Ziva David and Courtney Krieger, who had just entered the bar, looked around and laughed when they spotted Abby, who was now bouncing up and down, pigtails flying, waving manically at them. "Hey guys, over here," she called to them.

A waitress followed Courtney and Ziva to the table, and after she'd taken their order, the new arrivals sat down. "Alright, is this everyone?" McGee asked Abby. When she nodded, he then demanded, "Then spill!"

"You don't like just sitting here, having a drink with me?" Abby said, clutching at her chest as if she were mortally wounded. "Since when am I not good enough for you?"

McGee rolled his eyes. "That's not it, Abby, and you know it. Tomorrow's Tony's first day back, and I had planned to stay late to get all the paperwork caught up, so he didn't have to deal with anything from old cases – kind of a fresh start."

"Aw, that's sweet, Timmy," Abby gushed, as she leaned over to kiss him on the cheek.

"Not really. I just don't want him bitching at me, first thing," McGee said, embarrassed that he'd been caught out doing something nice for Tony's return.

Abby slugged him lightly on the shoulder. "Don't ruin it, Buster," and she glared at him. "Actually, part of the reason I called you all together was to talk about Tony. Like McGee said, tomorrow's Tony's first day back, and I feel like we need to do something really special."

"Abby, I am not sure Tony will be comfortable if we make a big deal over it. He is still not completely healed, and you know that he does not like for others to see him in anything but the best of light," Ziva cautioned.

"I know that, but we can't just ignore it, either. I was thinking that maybe we could take him to lunch, or something small like that," Abby suggested.

"That should be fine," Ziva nodded in agreement, "but why did you want Courtney here? There is no guarantee she will be free to have lunch with us."

"Ah ha, glad you asked! She's actually here because of the second thing I wanted to talk to you about," Abby told them. "We all know that Gibbs has been kind of unGibbs like lately, since he's been so busy with helping Tony. He's been pretty much just showing up, doing what he needs to do to solve the current case, and then hurrying home again. He hasn't had a lot of extra energy, or interest in focusing on much else, but with Tony coming back to work, that's going to change. I know Gibbs. Pretty soon, the fact that Phelps and Cooper are out there somewhere, enjoying all that money, while Tony's back here, still trying to deal with what happened to him, is going to start eating at him. It's going to bother Tony, too, even though he'll never say anything about it. Normally, Gibbs would make a big deal about it, and insist that more effort be put into finding them, but I don't think he's going to do that this time. He's too worried about helping Tony move past it."

"Yeah, you're probably right," McGee agreed. "He doesn't like it when it gets brought up around Tony, you can tell just by looking at him. He never says anything out loud, but his stare says a hell of a lot."

"Exactly my point!" Abby said. "Gibbs doesn't feel like he can push on it. That's where we come in. I know we spent a lot of time looking for them that first week after they got away, but none of us have done much about it lately. We've all sort of just dropped it, and concentrated on all our new cases. I heard even the FBI has scaled their search way back, isn't that right Courtney?" Abby looked over at the Bureau agent for confirmation.

"We had to," Courtney answered. "There are just too many other cases that need attention, ones that we actually have leads for. They've only got two people on it now, and they aren't even working exclusively on the case."

Abby was nodding vigorously. "That's where we can come in. I'm suggesting that between the four of us, we should be able to find something. We're the best there is! It doesn't have to huge, although that would be great. It just needs to be a significant enough clue that when we take it to Gibbs, the FBI, and maybe even NCIS, will be willing to assign more people to working on the case on a full time basis."

"How do you propose we do that, Abs?" McGee said in frustration. "We've already taken a crack at it, and the FBI's been working on it for over four straight weeks. What are we going to add, and when are we going to this?"

"That brings me to my plan. We aren't going to add anything. That's the problem. Everyone has just been trying to build on what has already been done. We're not. We're going to start all over, think outside the box. Hell, we're going to deny there even is a box! We're going to look at everything we know about Phelps and Cooper with fresh eyes. There's a clue there somewhere – there has to be. It's just been missed, and I'll bet no one has gone back, and started from the very beginning. Even when we were working on it before, we didn't re-examine what had already been discovered, we just looked for new information, monitored the same accounts over and over again, kept running traces on their names. We never really profiled them, got inside their heads. So we're going to do it now, for Tony and Gibbs."

"When do you propose we do this? Morgan isn't going to agree to let me come back over here to work on it, not now that my shoulder's completely healed," Courtney observed.

"You've all heard of the Breakfast Club, right? Well, we're going to be the Happy Hour Club. We're going to meet after work, when no one is watching. Together, we're the perfect team. Courtney can get us access to anything we might need from the FBI. Ziva, you can tap all of your super secret Mossad sources. Timmy, you can think like a writer – analyze their characters, help shape a profile, and I can use my research and computer skills. We can do this, guys, I know it. We have to do this. Much as I hate to say this, I think Gibbs is wrong. The way to get Tony past this is not by ignoring it, or pretending it didn't happen. The way to get Tony past this, is by finding Phelps and Cooper, and making sure they pay for everything they did to Tony, as well as all the other people that were killed or hurt because of them. You know Tony. If that doesn't happen, a little part of him will always think he's to blame, that there was more he could have, or should have done. And Gibbs won't move past it either, although he probably doesn't even realize that that is an issue. He can't stand when someone hurts one of the team, and Tony's a lot more than just that. Eventually, he's going to get mad, real mad, and that won't be good for anyone, including Tony. So, are you with me? Are we going to become the Happy Hour Club?" she asked, looking around at each one individually.

"Only if I get to be Judd Nelson," McGee said.

"Are you kidding??? You're the perfect Anthony Michael Hall. Ziva has to be Judd Nelson, she's the toughest. Courtney can be Ally Sheedy, 'cause she's cute, but smart. And, of course, I get to be Molly Ringwald – stylish, but different!" Abby declared.

McGee rolled his eyes, "So who's Emilio Estevez?"

"The jock? Think about it Timmy. Who could that be? What about Tony? See, its perfect!" she announced triumphantly.

"Yeah, and we're all going to be in detention for real if Gibbs gets wind of what we're up to," McGee huffed, as Courtney laughed.

Ziva, who had been listening to all of this with total incomprehension, finally gave up and asked, "I do not understand any of this."

"What are you doing on Friday night?" Abby asked her.

"I do not know. Why?" Ziva asked, even more confused.

"Movie night at my place, then you'll get it. Why don't you all come over? We can have our first brainstorming session after the movie is over. Since it's almost Halloween, let's say that 80's hair and clothing are optional, but strongly encouraged," she said enthusiastically.

"I still do not understand," Ziva said, frowning at the others.

"Oh, believe me, after Friday night, you will," Courtney promised. "Whether you want to, or not."

And so, with that, the Happy Hour Club was formed.

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This is the end of part two of what has become a trilogy. It started out with what originally was intended to be a short little story about how Tony met Gibbs, way back in _Discovered Undercover_, and has just grown and grown. Part three will deal with all of the issues brought up in this story, including the evolution of Tony's and Gibbs' relationship, as well as the continued search for Phelps and Cooper. Thank you so much for taking the time to read and respond to this story. You make it more fun!!!


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